Zant: The Life and Times of the Usurper King
by Triforce90
Summary: We never knew much about Zant. All we knew was that he was a villain. A puppet, even. This is his story, from the day of his birth to the day that he took power, all told by his sad eyes.
1. Prologue: Memoirs

No one in Hyrule had heard of the Twili before.

Sure, several of the more high-class citizens of the land had read about them in books, but they never actually knew that they truly existed. Those books that did mention them were the prime reason; they had described the ancient race as a kind of fairytale creature, one that you would only see in dreams and children's artwork. They were just a figment of the imagination, like all other legends, and they were about as real as a carnivorous dairy cow, or an owl that came out during the day.

And so, as would be expected, the people of Hyrule regarded the Twili as just that: a fairytale. The children, with their wild imaginations and their innocence, drew pictures of what they thought the Twili would look like. They would draw them standing with their family, or they would draw them playing in a field. Sometimes one of the older, more mischievous children, as a joke, would put the Twili in taboo situations. Although these few were reprimanded for such crude behavior, they knew that nothing was all-too offensive. The Twili didn't exist.

It wasn't until centuries later that the people of Hyrule found out that the Twili weren't just creations of the mind. It was something that nobody had expected; the legend of the Twili was so old that they had only heard about it from their ancestors, who had lived through the legend's pinnacle in popularity. Nobody talked about them anymore in conversation, and no child had drawn pictures of them. Instead, the people had taken up an interest in a different race, called the Oocca, which seemed like a more tangible concept to grasp because they lived up in the sky, as opposed to an alternate dimension like the Twili.

But this time, the people of the land had heard about them from a source that would have been more reliable than any book or ancestor, and that was the princess, Zelda.

Zelda was wise for her age; though no one knew approximately how many years she had under her belt, she couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen. She had demonstrated her intelligence during such major trials as global drought and war as well as trivial things, like land disputes and taxes. Many people who were set on declaring her to be the smartest person in the land mentioned the supposed fact that she had read every book in the land and memorized their contents.

But when Zelda first spoke of the Twili to the people and stated that they were, indeed, real, the people were bewildered. The princess had given an address to the people of the land about what Hyrule had just faced: Ganondorf had returned and tried to take over once again, but this time he had assistance from a creature named Zant, who was one of the mysterious Twili.

As soon as she breathed the word, the crowd before her was split. Those that had loved the princess the most were easily persuaded that the Twili did indeed exist, and that the drawings that their grandparents had made in their youth were indeed of real, living things. Those that had more trouble believing the tale were thoroughly convinced that the princess had gone insane and should not be on the throne, but despite protests, the princess stuck to her declaration: the Twili existed, and that was all that mattered.

No matter which side they were on, many people took up a huge interest in the Twili once again, and the interest in the sky-dwelling Oocca began to fade away. New books were printed on the beings, those that were pro-existence as well as those against it, and several theories were developed on the race. Many leading thinkers decided together that the Twili existed in an alternate dimension that could not be accessible by ordinary means, and that the race chose to live in secret and did not want the citizens of Hyrule to know of their existence.

Then there were the skeptics. Many people wrote books that argued how the Twili couldn't have existed because they were merely fairytales, just as atheists of the land had argued that the three goddesses were nothing but a children's story invented to give people a false optimism towards life, despite evidence existed to prove otherwise. These anti-Twili citizens were just as stubborn in their views, and they continued to ignore the fact that the Twili could very well be real.

A fewer amount of people had argued that the Twili were evil and vengeful, which would make sense because of this mysterious "Zant" person. Several of them came up with the idea that the Twili would attempt to wage war with the Hylians, and an epic battle would ensue.

As that idea gripped hold of more and more people of the nation, Zelda had decided to address the people once again on the matter. It was time for the confusion to disappear forever, and the real story to be told.

* * *

Zelda inhaled deeply as she gazed at herself in the large mirror before her. From her bedroom she could hear the many people outside in the Hyrule Castle Courtyard, all anxious for her to make her appearance. Now that they were there and she could hear the mixed cries from the crowd, she became unsure if she should go on with this speech.

No. She must. Midna would have wanted her to.

She grabbed several strands of her corn silk hair and fingered them delicately. She then bound the strands together with a cloth-like material, and then she let it fall out of her hands. She had hated doing this, but she knew that she had to. It was a sign of her "royalty", or so she had been told.

She gave a frustrated sigh when the binding came undone and her hair fell free. Before she could get to it again, a small, delicate hand that wasn't her own took hold of it instead. She looked up and saw the face of her maid, Impa, smiling down at her.

"Shall I help you, then?" Impa asked in a smug, but kind, tone.

Zelda watched as her maid did her hair. Both binds were quickly in place, and she had once again looked like the princess she was supposed to be.

"You're too impatient," commented Impa as she admired her work. "If you would just relax and take your time, you wouldn't have as much trouble doing this as you do now."

Zelda stared at herself in the mirror and stroked the binding. "Impa… Do you really think I should go through with this?"

Impa frowned. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"Every passing second."

"I believe it would be for the best. The people have a right to know what almost happened to Hyrule. And think! If you didn't appear now, people would think that you were hiding something, or that you really werecrazy."

Zelda frowned. "Do you believe I am?"

"Of course not. It's your eyes."

"My eyes?"

"Your eyes are honest. Whenever you speak about the Twili or this Midna that you seem so fond of, I can tell that you're speaking the truth. You're not insane, dear."

Zelda took in another deep breath. "Well." She stood up. "I suppose it's time." She tossed her hair back and felt the binds smack her shoulders recklessly. The curtain that separated the bedroom from the balcony over the filled courtyard seemed to beckon her.

Her hands darted forward and pulled the curtain aside, and the princess quickly walked out onto the balcony. A giant roar came forth from the crowd before her, and for the first time in her life, Zelda felt afraid to speak in front of her own subjects.

She held out her hand and the crowd immediately quieted down. The people all looked up at her, willing to listen to anything that she had to say.

"My dear subjects," she said in a loud, yet smooth voice. "Several months ago I appeared before you and told you about something that had just happened to Hyrule. Through this I declared that a specific race, called the Twili, did indeed exist."

Another roar came up from the crowd. Zelda could now see that the audience contained people that were no longer on her side, as they looked up at her with large scowls, and they did not cheer.

Zelda held up her hand once again. "It was then that many of you seemed to have had trouble believing what I said to be true. I can see now that many of you find me to be insane, and that I am no longer fit to rule. I believe it is appropriate for me to now say that even I can become ignorant, but at this point in time, the ignorant ones are those that think I should be replaced."

A small murmur broke out this time. Zelda could see that the scowls of those specific people were now replaced by faces of shock.

"Many of you believe that the Twili do exist, and I thank you. However, there has also been a rumor that the Twili plan to go to war with us, and that we should prepare ourselves for battle against this other race. The fact that the Twili are evil creatures is not so. The only evil one was Zant, who had made himself an usurper king through the dark lord Ganondorf and tried to take over Hyrule. Zant is no more, and the throne of the Twili now rests in the hands of its rightful owner. Her name is Midna, and she was a very close friend of mine."

Zelda winced at her poor choice of words. The moment she had said "was" caused the people to stir into an uproar.

"Let me explain! Midna was overthrown from her position by Zant, as I have already said. She was cursed, and being so, was forced to take on the form of an imp. With the help of a young man from the Ordona Province, she had managed to prevent Hyrule from becoming part of the Twilight Realm, which is the dimension that the Twili reside in and the place that Zant had desperately wanted to expand. She ultimately destroyed him, and as soon as Ganondorf, his source of power, was no more, she was able to break free of her curse, resume her true form, and take back the throne. My friends, she does not mean to harm us anymore than the other leaders of the races in our fair land."

The crowd began to murmur once again. Zelda turned around and gave a glance at Impa, who nodded approvingly. She had made a nice recovery.

"Even still," she continued, "we do not need to fear the possibility of any form of evil coming from a place such as the Twilight Realm. Should any kind of uprising occur that would be beyond Midna's control, the take over would only happen there, and would not be able to expand into Hyrule. This is because the only link between the land of Hyrule and the Twilight Realm has been destroyed." She paused. "I am sure many of you are familiar with the Mirror that rests in Arbiter's Grounds."

The crowd lost all control now. Several people shrieked, as they were very familiar with the object the princess was talking about. Others were confused and didn't know if they should shriek as well or simply wait for the princess to continue. Had it not been for the many soldiers that were standing guard, the frenzy would have probably turned into a full-scale riot.

"Enough!" The people settled down once again and stared up at Zelda's face, and looking back at them, she could see that a certain amount of fear had appeared on their faces. Terror had taken over. "I did not mean to startle you. Even still, there is nothing to be afraid of. As I have said, the Mirror has been destroyed. Many of you are well aware of the fact that for centuries, the Arbiter's Grounds had held some of Hyrule's most horrible and evil people that could be incarcerated. Many of you also know that those criminals who were so evil were never sentenced to death, but sentenced to an alternate dimension accessible through a mystical mirror. This alternate dimension is the Twilight Realm."

Zelda has expected another uproar to follow, but this time, the audience was quiet. She had won their full attention. "After his captivity, Ganondorf, the man that had tried to take over the land so many times, was sentenced to execution. Those in charge of executing him quickly impaled him with a sword. However, Ganondorf lived, for inside of his right hand dwelled the Triforce of Power, which is, indeed, a piece of the Triforce that the three goddesses created. He struck back, killing one of the executioners, and prepared to kill the rest as well. However, several of them thought quickly and opened the portal to the Twilight Realm that the Mirror creates. Ganondorf was then pulled into that realm and sealed, and at last, we had thought that he would be gone forever.

"However, we were beyond mistaken. Ganondorf had used his power to take on the form of a god and appear to Zant, who, at the time, had been a subject of Midna's. Zant was a being that desired to take over the land of Hyrule to bring more power to the Twili, and Ganondorf recognized this. He made a promise to him. If he were to allow Ganondorf to dwell on his body for strength, he would give Zant the power to overthrow Midna, and together, the two of them would be able to plunge Hyrule into darkness. In the end, after Midna and the Ordonian had managed to defeat the two, Midna shattered the Mirror beyond repair. We no longer have the ability to send people to the Twilight Realm, and we no longer have to face the fear of another insurrection."

Zelda looked down at the people and studied their faces. All of them were in awe, and she could tell that those who had criticized her were now on her side. Impa had always said she had a way with words, and now she could see that.

"There is nothing to be afraid of. Go back to your homes. Live your life as if nothing had ever happened. The kingdom of the Twili still lives on, but it does not live on in Hyrule."

She turned around and went back into her bedroom. She could clearly hear that the people were talking amongst themselves as they left. Impa was in front of her, her arms crossed and a smile on her face. "You did the right thing, princess. Do not worry about how they might react. Some people just have trouble believing the truth."

Zelda threw her hair back. "There was still more I could have told them. So much more I could have explained. Although, I'm sure that if I spoke of the origin of the Twili, any hope of getting them to believe that they were peaceful would have failed."

Impa frowned and nodded. "That was probably a wise decision. Besides, it does not matter how they originated, just as long as they exist. Let them make up more of their own theories."

Zelda fingered her hair, which slowly caused the binds to come undone. Impa had a point. If she had succeeded in convincing the people the Twili were good, and she was sure that she was, they would make up a theory about their origin that wouldn't make them appear violent, or cruel, or anything bad. However, that wouldn't keep the truth from staying there. The truth always stays where it is, no matter what kind of blasphemy comes forth.

"I wonder how Midna is fairing now."

* * *

"But Princess Midna… the people want to see you once again, just to make sure that you really have returned to them. Why do you continue to conceal yourself?"

A gray-skinned woman with sharp eyes sat on a throne before a kneeling Twili. "What, do I need to repeat myself?" Midna rolled her eyes and smiled. "Just tell the people that I do not wish to make an appearance. Not yet. Not now."

The Twili stood up and saluted. He walked away, leaving the Princess of the Twili to sit proudly.

Ever since Midna's return the Twilight Realm had been in a state of frenzy. People heard that Zant had been overthrown and Midna replaced, and as soon as that news broke through the celebrations started. All of those holidays that were to be celebrated at different times of the year were celebrated early. The longest-celebrated holiday was a lengthened version of Rakashan, the day that the citizens of the Twilight Realm celebrated the dawning of the age of a new ruler.

As she sat in her reclaimed Palace of Twilight, she couldn't help but smile. The threat of that idiot Zant was no more, and now that she had destroyed the Mirror of Twilight, nothing like what had just come to pass could ever happen again. Sure, she knew that she would no longer be able to see that humble princess and that sweet Ordonian boy that she had grown to love as a friend… but that seemed like a small price to pay. In all actuality, she was doing them a favor.

Although she was beyond happy to be back on the throne, she couldn't help but remember that small boy that had served her for years at a time, only to overthrow her. That wretch, Zant… the one that she had eventually grown to trust. After all, he got the job done; whenever she had ordered him to do anything, he would do it, and quickly. In fact, he was the best subject that she had, until that day…

The feelings of pain and hatred began to well up inside of her. She had known very well that he disagreed with her lax policies. Many times he had approached her on the subject of taking over Hyrule, despite the fact that he knew very well that she would dismiss him. Still, she never expected him to become so corrupt… So evil…

It was then that she found herself revisiting those old memories.


	2. Origins

In a small, desolate room in the Palace of Twilight sat a woman of a fairly young age. Upon first glance, one would easily think that she was a woman of extreme wealth due to the silk garbs that covered her pale and fragile body. The silk was vermillion, like old blood, and the deep color of it was enough to just accent the yellow tint to her eyes and make them the most apparent feature of her body. Underneath the garment there was a lump, and this lump was found even further underneath the skin of her abdomen. Her hand rested upon it, and as she breathed in and out, she could have sworn that she could feel her unborn child breathing as well.

Sometimes the baby moved all of the time. Sometimes it was perfectly still. Often times he or she, whatever it was, would move about in the most inopportune times, such as when the woman was doing her work as a maid of the royal family. At this point she would have to place both hands over her stomach, beg her fellow maids to excuse her, and go back to her lonely chamber off the east wing of the palace. They understood with her being pregnant and all, but it was still rather embarrassing.

For nine months she had been forced to carry the load of a child that she did not want. And for what? So her husband could have that "extra hand" to help him around with his work. It wasn't like he needed it, she would think to herself. After all, he's a priest. He spends his days trying to convert stray people of the Twilight Realm back to their religion of Solism, a religion that was horribly similar to the religion that those ridiculous Hylians followed in that alternate dimension. It wasn't as if he was going to need the child to help raise food for the populous in its entirety.

And even so, what if the child was a girl, and grew up to be a beautiful woman instead of a strong man? What would her husband have done then? The religion of Solism called specifically for male leaders, as women were inferior. She often scoffed at this, as the royal family, who were the ones enforcing the religion, was often led by a woman.

As she continued to think about the life of her future child her husband walked into the room. He wore the traditional clothes that a preacher of Solism wore: black robes that made him look more evil than pure, and a scarlet tassel around his neck to signify his rank. His pale skin was about the same shade as his lovely wife, although his shined with the reflection of one saved by the gods of their religion. His wife had strayed, and she was growing dull.

"He's going to be a leader someday," he said as he looked at where his wife's hands lay. "I received a vision this afternoon."

The wife smiled, but she did not look up at her husband. Instead, she stared at the wall in front of her. "And what if the child is a girl, Siir? What will she be then?"

Siir frowned. "He will not be a girl, Daani. Why do you doubt my words?"

Daani broke her stare from the wall and smiled. "I don't."

Siir moved towards the bed his wife was sitting on and sat beside her. Daani kept her eyes on him the whole way, as if she was expecting him to do something unexpectedly. He did not, and merely continued to look at the bundle of flesh that would become his own.

Sometimes he wondered about her. When they had first met she was one of the most exuberant creatures he had ever met. At that time he was only an understudy to one of the greatest preachers of the time, and she was but a mere servant girl to the royal family. Once she became pregnant, much of her joy had left and she found herself becoming more and more ridged than happy. It was as if that unborn child had fed and nourished himself off of any kind of joy she may have had inside of her. She was still able to smile, though he often began to question if it was a real sign of happiness or a false one. Now that she was closer and closer to labor, she was smiling all of the time.

He decided to move the conversation her way. "Have you thought of a name for the baby?"

Daani's eyes began to glow. She had always loved talking about herself. "Oh yes. Several."

"I'm sure they are good names."

She was beginning to brim with excitement. He hadn't seen her this way for so long. "I thought of about five if it's a boy and four if it's a girl. They were all names of people from our families, all except for one, and that was a boy's name… so that means that there's four for each."

Siir grinned. "You still believe that it's going to be a girl?"

"You can not tell. I wouldn't care if the gods came down from the heavens and wrote it all over the walls of our room. We must wait and see."

Siir sighed. "Well, in any case, what was that name that you threw out? I've become curious."

"Zant."

A brief paused filled the room, and for a moment, Siir couldn't believe what he had heard. He almost asked for his wife to repeat the name for him, just so he was sure that she had said the right thing and that his ear's weren't deceiving him, but he knew that he had heard her correctly, and that she had made no mistake.

"Zant?" he began. "But… that's-"

"The name of the rejected god, I know."

Daani knew well what the name was, for her husband talked about their religion almost endlessly, as if it were his idea of small-talk. The scrolls told of a man that was accepted into the heavens that the gods and goddesses resided in, only to be cast down after he rebelled against their ways. His name was Zant, and he was forever remembered to be the one that would disagree with all authority, demanding to take his own action instead of the ones from a higher power. He was therefore regarded as evil.

As Siir continued to sit in a state of near shock, Daani sighed. "I thought that you might not have wanted a preacher named Zant, so I discarded the name."

"How did you even come to think of it, though?"

She sat in silence. "I do not know."

* * *

As the clocks on the walls began to chime, the inhabitants of the Palace of Twilight slowly stirred to life. A desolate chime sounded throughout every room with a wall piece, and still-tired eyes slowly opened as the people already began to do their morning chores.

Half an hour later, the citizens of the Twilight Realm were already into their work. Those that ran errands for the royal family quickly made their way to where they needed to go, and those that were fortunate enough to stay in the confines of the palace were able to submerge themselves into their work without having to run around. Daani was one of these subjects, as were her partners.

The maids of the royal family weren't necessarily important, but should the kitchen need cleaning or the ballroom need sweeping, the maids were there to help. Most of the time, however, they spent in the courtyard, conversing with each other on the current events. Whilst doing so, they would often knit or garden, due to the fact that they, being all women, were expected to have such hobbies.

Being women, they were also expected to engage in such taboo practices such as gossip, a method of entertainment that did not sit too well with the royal family or the religion of Solism. However, despite the disapproval, they never viewed the gossiping as wrong and continued to do it anyway, no matter where they were or what time of day it was.

"You know that young girl who's in charge of preparing the dinners for the royal family?"

"You mean that sweet one with the long, red hair? What about her?"

"She's not that sweet, it turns out. She was caught dumping poison into the soup that she was about to serve."

"Oh, how exciting! To think that something like that would happen in our quiet little palace… It's so disgusting that it's splendid!"

"That's not all! Her punishment was death, but before the executioners could get to her, she had cut off her hair and turned it into a noose! They found her dead body dangling in the doorway of the prison!"

The fellow gossiper would squeal or giggle. "Splendid! Absolutely splendid!"

Even now a pack of gossipers was lingering about in the courtyard, each one with a pair of knitting needles and a basket filled with different colored fabrics and yarns. As the needles clicked and the materials unraveled into different shapes and designs, the women would chat with each other and, if they ever grew bored, would try and think of some bit of juicy information that they hadn't gossiped about. If they couldn't think of anything of the sort, they would just as easily invent a little tale.

Fortunately, Daani, that adorable pregnant girl from the east wing of the palace, just so happened to be in that group of dangerous companions. She had merely sat in with them for the sake of companionship while she worked on clothes for the baby that she did not want, but often times she would find herself getting into a wicked conversation with the others. That very baby inside of her gave the others something to talk about, and when her dearest friend, who was also pregnant, joined in on the chatting, the rumors would really start flowing.

As if by some sarcastic joke by the gods of Solism, Rhiannon, Daani's childhood friend and fellow soon-to-be mother, arrived and took her place among the knitters. Her skin was taunt; it often was. Her abdomen was slightly smaller than Daani's, but both of their children had been conceived in the same week and were only a few days apart in age. It was often assumed that her child would be a girl.

Before Rhiannon could even sit down and begin her knitting, a large, heavy woman looked up at her and smiled. "Have you thought of a name?"

Rhiannon returned the smile. "We have not decided yet," she answered. "Both the husband and I are expecting it to be a girl, so we've thought of a several names." She gave out a small laugh. "Too many to count!"

"You obviously haven't been asked that question before, dearie," spoke a broom-like woman. "You're supposed to just say a name. You don't have to like it, and you don't have to end up calling the child that, but it sounds much better than saying that you can't decide."

Rhiannon put down her patchwork and sent a friendly glare towards the woman. "Fine then, Rona. I will name the child… Midna."

The fat woman grinned widely. "Such a beautiful name! Had my son been a girl I would have named him that in a heartbeat."

"You would not have, Malina," snapped Daani, her needles clicking furiously. "We all know how you try to win everyone's hearts by making it sound like you agree with them."

Malina gave off a squeal of delight. "Shame that you had to catch on, Daani. You have no idea how many friends I have made with that maneuver."

"It's atrocious," smiled Rona. "Absolutely atrocious!"

"What about you, Daani?" muttered another woman. "Have you thought of a name for the child yet?"

"No," quickly lied Daani. "And don't you look at me like that, Rona! I'm not going to spit out the first name that comes to mind!"

"At least you have been able to get pregnant, dearie," Rona quickly answered. "The gods know how long you've been trying."

"Speaking of trying," said Rhiannon as she dug around in her basket for a pink thread, "what's the latest news on Lithia?"

"Poor girl," said Malina as any signs of her previous grin turned into a frown. "She's been trying, as usual, but so far there have been no signs of anything."

"This makes it her sixth year…" muttered the quiet woman. "Something's wrong with her."

"You know what's wrong with her, Zoriah," said Rona as her own grin appeared on her face.

"I'm afraid she doesn't," said Daani. "Nor do I, or any of us. What do you have in mind, Rona?"

"Well." Rona leaned forward. The rest of the women looked at her intently, interested in hearing what she had to say. "I just heard from a lovely little source that the reason why Zoriah isn't getting pregnant is because she was spayed."

Rhiannon coughed loudly. Daani could tell just by looking at her that Malina was about to burst into laughter. Zoriah, never the one to react in any way, simply continued with her knitting, the needles being as emotionless as she was.

"That's lunacy!" said Rhiannon. "It's even stupid to joke like that!"

"Call it what you want, dearie!" Rona continued with her own project. "I'm just telling you what I heard. It's either believe that story or believe that Beryll doesn't have the necessary tools to create a baby, if you know what I mean…"

Daani rolled her eyes, but kept everything that she was about to say to herself. She didn't need something she said to get manipulated by others and spread around as a rumor.

As she sat there, thinking to herself, the baby inside of her kicked.

* * *

Whenever the group of gossipers would disperse and the advisors would go about on their own for the rest of the day, one or two of them always stayed behind in the courtyard and kept to themselves. Often times they would simply contemplate on the events that were discussed in that small circle; other times they would merely sit and observe their surroundings. Whatever the case, the courtyard, without the squeals and giggles of a gossiper, provided a calm atmosphere suitable for whatever those that stayed behind sought to do. At this time, this was Daani and Rhiannon.

The bond that the two women shared was like that between two sisters. The amount of time that they spent together led several to believe that they had to have been related in _some _way. Many times one of the more confused onlookers would believe that Rhiannon was Daani's daughter, due to the fact that her face went unstrained without the years of loneliness that came with being married to a man that had no time to spend with his wife.

The pregnancies of the two women only strengthened the bond that they had. Daani had only been pregnant for a few days when Rhiannon came running up to her, crying tears of joy at the news she had received. It seemed impossible, but the unborn children themselves seemed to be the reason that they grew so much closer. Whenever they didn't have to occupy themselves with their royal duties, they would spend the hours talking about what they couldn't wait for and making clothes for the babies. The courtyard provided the ideal place to do this without the words of Malina and Rona.

As they sat there now, the sounds of their clicking needles replacing the sounds that the other women provided, they provided their own soundtrack with their usual conversation on the children they would soon mother. Daani had always enjoyed this, mainly because it managed to get her mind off of Siir and his time away from her. Rhiannon enjoyed this just as well, but for other reasons. Her husband, who was a chef for the royal family, only had to spend time away from her three times a day. However, she was the type of woman that needed to be with just more than one person all of her life, and being around Daani satisfied the need that her husband couldn't fill. With Daani, she could talk about things that her husband didn't have the knowledge for, and she had always believed that women needed to be in the company of other women.

"The baby began to kick harder today," she said as she put down her work and placed a hand on her stomach. "I believe that she's close to being due."

Daani smiled. "That would mean the same thing for me. I tell you, it hasn't been easy, carrying this child around for so long. I've been ready for him to pop out two months ago."

Rhiannon giggled, then burst aloud into full-scale laughter. "I know what you mean! I have anticipated this moment for a while as well!"

The two of them sat there in sudden silence, Rhiannon still wearing a smile on her face and Daani continuing her work. If she was going to make herself useful, she needed to be doing something.

"Daani…"

Daani turned and faced her friend. "Hmm?"

"I had a dream last night."

"Oh? What about?"

"What our children would be like."

Silence once again filled the courtyard, the needles even stopping themselves. Daani had already gone through something similar to this once before. Why should she have to go through it again? Still, she kept her mouth shut, and as she did she noticed that the happiness from Rhiannon's face had nearly disappeared. Instead there was a veil of uncertainty covering her eyes, and that once cheerful aura that all felt around her was gone.

"I'm not exactly sure what the dream meant in its entirety. However, I have to say that I believe…" She paused. "I believe that our children will change the world someday. Together. That's what I believe."

Daani frowned. "Rhiannon-"

"Please, I know what I say. The least you could do is give me the benefit of the doubt."

Rhiannon held out her hands and grabbed onto Daani's. The two of them sat there, looking into each other's eyes, and doing so caused Daani to see that her friend was being completely serious.

"Believe me Daani. Our children are going to have a special bond between them. I don't know if it's going to be anything like the one that you and I share. It could be something horrible. All I know is that their lives will affect the other."

Silence once again filled the courtyard, and as if nothing happened, Rhiannon grabbed hold of her patchwork and went off to work once again. However, Daani knew it was safe to say that she wasn't completely focused on the movements of her hands, and as she began to knit herself, she knew she wasn't either.

* * *

Malina quickly waddled down the hallway, her fat little legs carrying the heavy burden or her upper body. As she made her way past the dining room, she couldn't help but curse the physical shape she was in. Already her heart was racing at an extreme pace and her lungs were screaming for oxygen, but she couldn't stop. She had to find the others.

At last! There was the door that she was looking for all a long! She slowed her pace as she approached the door to the kitchen, huffing and puffing with each gradually slower step. She placed her hands against the door, leaning on it for support. She quickly pulled it away. There was no time for this!

She pulled open the large door, causing the heads of the people inside of the room to turn and look with surprise. She was the center of attention now, and as she stood in the eyes of several people, she couldn't help but grin.

"It's time!" she sang aloud for all to hear. "Quickly! Midwives! Two deliveries at once!"

"Two…?" Malina turned and saw Zoriah, her face partially hidden. "You mean to say that-"

"Yes! Daani, as well as Rhiannon!"

Rona squealed. "Let's away, dearies! Shall Zoriah take the dainty one? Good. Come, Malina, let's go attend to Daani."

Zoriah said nothing and walked out of the room, her long garments causing it to seem like she was hovering just above the ground. Rona turned quickly on her heel and marched out of the same door, the woman in front of her not too far from eyesight.

"Hold on a moment!" called Malina. She began to waddle once again, panting for even more breath. "You could at least give me a chance to recover! I brought that news all the way for the third story of the east wing!"

"This _is _the third story, Malina," snapped Rona. "It's not as if you had to run up several flights of stairs."

"Yes." Malina cackled. "However, I do believe that some credit should be awarded to the messenger. Surely you know that it's beyond ridiculous to leave a messenger unpaid."

"I'll only compensate when I take the baby and eat him for supper! Now move!"

Malina swore to herself as her companion fluttered away. She was able to catch up soon enough, however, and the two of them managed to keep a constant pace as they neared Daani's bedroom.

"Here we are," grinned Malina as she opened the door to the bedroom. Sure enough, there was Daani, lying on her back in that large and uncomfortable bed of hers. Siir was standing in the northwest corner of the room, his hand on his forehead and his eyes shifting from left to right.

"Sir… Your godliness…" Rona had never known how to address this man before, but right now she didn't care. "If you will please excuse us! Women only!"

Before Siir could react, Malina grabbed hold of his arms from behind and began to push him out of the room. He turned and looked back at his wife, who smiled in return.

"Tell me, dearie, how do you feel?"

Daani winced. "I'm not in very much pain. In fact, I feel… faint."

"Faint?" Malina looked at her partner. "I woman's not supposed to feel faint when she's giving birth. She's supposed to scream and kick!"

"I'm also very warm. And dizzy."

"Of course." Rona patted the girl on the leg. "You're just excited, that's all. Now then, open up here. I'm not going to get any work done if you don't let me see just what I'm working with."

Daani had no time to react, and before she knew it, there she was, her legs spread open and the gossiping midwives beginning to work.

She was glad that her husband had left the room, but at the same time she wished he could be here. She had no problem if he wasn't there to see the birth of his child, but for the first time in forever, she felt like she needed him. She was terrified, and she would give up anything in the world, even the child that she had carried about for so long, just to merely hold his hand.

"Yes, I see that it's time to start working. Come on my dear. Push!"

She thought of Rhiannon. Apparently she had gone into labor at about the same time that she did, which made the tie between the two of them strengthen even more. Then she remembered what Rhiannon had said to her in the courtyard, about how their children would have a similar bond between them. Was she right?

Maybe there just is significance in dreams.

"Push, dearie!"

She had never finished that scarf that she was knitting for her husband. She had started that when she first found out that he would be traveling to rather cold places, and she knew that when she finished it, a little part of her would be with him wherever he went. That was important to her, and she didn't finish it…

"Come on now! Push!"

And then there was her child. She was giving birth to it right now, and she didn't even realize it. After all of the months of carrying it inside of her and making sure that she watched what she ate and drank, it was finally time to give it life outside of that safe confinement it had grown accustomed to.

"Oh my goodness! Would you look at him, Malina?"

Her son…

Immediately she had felt the weight being lifted off of her frail frame. She lifted her head just slightly and could see the two women wiping off the baby. Her son cried furiously, taking in those breaths of life that a mother would never forget.

She would never forget.

"Here he is, Daani. This is what you've been waiting for. Your firstborn."

He was placed into her arms, a small blanket just barely covering his nakedness. As he began to cease crying his eyes began to open slightly, and before she knew it they were open to their full extent. Two yellow orbs, each of them shining brightly in the room's dim lighting, and as they gazed into her own eyes she could feel a pleasant warmth enter her body.

Her eyes grew tired, which was only natural. She closed them slowly, still keeping her gaze on the yellow orbs that belonged to the one she just birthed. Her eyes shut tightly as a smile appeared upon her face.

And then she was gone.

* * *

Fifteen minutes had gone by. Now thirty. Forty-five. An hour.

As Siir continued to pace just outside his bedroom door, he couldn't help but wonder just what was going on inside that room. Weren't women in labor supposed to scream from the immense pain that they were going through?

He turned on his heel once more, further wearing down the carpet in the hallway. He knew that pacing wasn't going to do him any good, but it was the only thing that he could do to keep himself occupied. It was that or pray, and he didn't feel much like talking to the gods. He had talked to them enough; why not take a break?

He placed his hand on his forehead. It was damp with sweat. He sighed and stopped his pacing just in front of the door, then turned to look at it. Just on the other side of that wooden barrier laid his wife, and the only thing that he could do to help her, according to the midwives, was stay out of the room.

As he began to take another step forward he heard the sound of a large, piercing shriek, just on the other side of that horrible door. He smiled in relief, for he knew what that sound was. The baby had been born.

He faced the door once again and placed his hand on the knob, but he thought against it. It was probably best to wait outside until one of the midwives came and told him the good news.

He waited for five minutes. Now ten. Fifteen. Something had to be wrong.

Completely ignoring the fact that he probably wouldn't be welcomed, Siir reached out for the doorknob. He was surprised when it opened before his hand could reach it, and he was soon facing Malina, the woman that had noticed Daani was going into labor. Her eyes were wide and her mouth slightly open, as if shocked.

Without saying anything, Malina swiftly walked past Siir, her short little legs going as fast as they could go. Siir watched her leave and then turned back to look inside of the room, where he saw the other woman, Rona. Her eyes were not wide and her mouth was shut, but her breathing was shaky and deep. She looked into his eyes and said nothing, then walked past Siir. He was standing there alone, and then he realized that it was probably due time for him to see his wife.

He swiftly walked into the room and found it to be the same as it was when he left it. The only difference was that he could almost feel the energy of a new life. Smiling broadly, he quickly made his way over to the bed that he had put his wife in, and there she had stayed.

Her eyes were shut. She was probably asleep, poor thing.

"Daani," he spoke quietly as he nudged her in the side. "Wake up."

Nothing happened. He let out a quiet laugh, then leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. He almost wished he hadn't.

Her face was horribly damp with sweat, as was to be expected, but he was shocked to find that it was clammy and cold instead of hot and flushed. He wiped his lips quickly with the back of his hand and pulled his face away from her. The traces of happiness disappearing, he placed his hand on her cheek. Cold. Clammy. Wet.

The hand found its way down her body and to her wrist, where it squeezed. There was no sign of a pulse, no sign of blood flow. He bent over once again and held his face above her nose. There was no breath.

Although he didn't realize it, tears began to well up in Siir's eyes. One of them managed to escape and began to roll down his cheek. It fell and landed on his wife, where it merged with the left-over sweat and that horrible damp skin.

He held his wife's hand and looked at her face. He wanted to kick himself for not insisting to stay beside his wife as she gave birth.

The baby! How could he have forgotten about him? There he was, wrapped in a blanket and laying next to his mother. His eyes were shooting all across the room, apparently amazed by the bland decorations. The eyes suddenly turned and met Siir's, who was staring at the baby in disbelief.

For the first time in his life, Siir felt hatred towards another being.

* * *

Far in the west wing of the palace lived the couple of Beryll and Lithia. Beryll, an advisor to the royal family, worked hard and often. Lithia, a maid, did the menial chores along with several other women, such as cooking and cleaning. Despite being horribly busy, they were very happy with their lives and very happy with each other. However, one part of their lives wasn't so happy; much unlike the other couples that lived and worked in the palace. They had no child.

It wasn't that they never tried. Both of them were determined to start a family of their own, despite their horrible work schedules and duties. But the gods of Solism seemed to be against it. No matter how determined they were, nothing would happen, and the couple went on childless in the six years that they had been happily married in their otherwise happy life.

As the clock ticked and the workers of the palace began to be let off of their jobs for the day, Lithia peered into a black cauldron that she had filled with a thick broth. Taking a spoon, she gave it a stir and allowed the heavenly odor to fill her nostrils. Her husband would be back any minute now, and she was going to serve him his favorite dish tonight. It was their wedding anniversary, and she wanted everything to be perfect.

Standing up straight and smoothing out any wrinkles she might have gotten in her dress, she looked up at the clock that hung just above the large window that looked out into the courtyard. Her husband would be home in any second.

Three. Two. One.

"Hello my dear." Indeed, there stood her husband, just coming in from the hall. He quickly took off the formal advisor's cap that he oh-so hated to wear and took a deep breath. "You've made my favorite."

Lithia smiled. "Of course I did."

Beryll made his way across the room and stood next to his wife. His face was just a few inches from hers, and both of them were smiling. He let out a small chuckle and neared in closer to his wife, when all of the sudden there was a knock at the door.

Beryll pulled away and looked into Lithia's eyes. "I'll be right back."

She grinned. "Don't take too long."

Beryll walked back across the room and grabbed hold of the doorknob. He opened the cheaply-made door, expecting to greet one of his fellow advisers, and he was quite surprised to see that there was no one there.

He stuck his head just outside of the doorway and looked to his left. Then he looked to his right. If anybody had knocked, like he thought he had just heard, they were gone now.

It was then that he caught something out of the corner of his eye. There was something moving near his feet. He looked down and saw a small basket, and inside that basket was a baby wrapped in nothing but a blanket. He could instantly tell that the poor thing was completely newborn and couldn't have been more than a couple of hours old. Still, its eyes were bright, and a small, goofy grin was on his face.

"Beryll?"

Beryll reached down and picked up the basket. The baby cooed, as if enjoying the ride. Beryll stared in amazement as he shut the door and began to make his way across the room once again, where Lithia stared in equal fascination.

Five minutes had gone by before she broke the silence.

"Whose is this?"

Beryll shook his head. "I don't know. I looked down the hallway and there was no one there. Whoever had knocked just intended to leave this baby and disappear."

"How strange… and how sad."

More silence.

"There's a note tucked into the blanket."

"I see that."

"Aren't you going to read it?"

Beryll reached into the basket. The baby turned his head and looked at his hand, then weakly reached out in an attempt to grab it.

"The poor thing is probably hungry." Lithia picked up the baby and held him in her arms. "Come. We will see if I have any fresh milk."

Beryll turned his head and watched his wife carry the baby over to the cupboard. He then turned and looked at the basket once again. He resumed in picking up the folded letter and held it in front of his face, inspecting it. The only thing he had to do was read it.

Opening the thin paper slowly, he read the lines of writing.

_Dearest Beryll and Lithia,_

_I have known of your attempts to conceive a child, and I know that you are still unable to do so. Do not fear, this baby is now yours. I do not want him, for he quite possibly, somehow, caused the death of my beloved. I won't be able to bear the pain of watching him grow up with some physical traits of his mother, for it would only sadden me, and I will only grow to hate him. _

_He is yours now. You will raise him as your own, just as if he were the baby that you never conceived. I know that with the two of you he will have a most happy life, and a happier one than he could ever get with me. _

_With most sincere wishes._

The letter stopped there; no one had bothered to sign it. He read over the letter again, and then read it aloud so his wife could hear. She said nothing.

Just as he was about to throw it in to the fire that was heating his dinner, he noticed more writing near the bottom of the note. The size of the letters was much smaller than the rest of them, almost as if they had been written to increase the chances that nobody would see them. He had.

_You will name the child Zant._


	3. Childhood

The Palace of Twilight was never just a home for the royal family of the Twilight Realm. Since the completion of its original construction, the palace served as a residency for many of the land's inhabitants. In fact, the only people that lived off the property were those that either grew the food that the Twili ate or simply preferred to live outside the palace gates, away from the hustle and bustle. All others, however, no matter what social order they might have belonged to, took up residency in the cold stone walls that made the Palace of Twilight.

There was still a crude social barrier that prevented the poorest of the Twili from feeling kingly inside those stone walls. Each family had access to different areas of the large homestead depending on their social status, which was usually measured by the family head's occupation and monetary status. The royal family, owning the palace to begin with, was allowed full access, which was understandable. The poorest of poor, with their laziness and lowly way of life, lived in the basements and dungeons, where they feasted with rats and other vermin of the dark and damp.

The other family head's went through a series of surveys that determined which wing of the palace the family should live in and how much access they had to the remaining areas. A monotonous inquirer would determine the position of the head and give them a colorized card that showed just how much access he and his family were given. The card was to be pinned on your clothes, and should you forget it, you must both pay a fine and prove that you do indeed have a card or be sent to the basement with the paupers.

You say that you're a priest? Well then, my good sir, you have full access to the palace, minus the throne room, of course. Here is your card. Remember, the color of it is blue.

You're an advisor to the royal family? Of course, I recognize you now; your name is Alkal. With this yellow card you'll be able to prove that you have full access to the palace, but just remember that you may only enter the throne room when the royal family knows that you plan on doing so in advance.

You're a chef? Well now, aren't you the important one? Here is your card. Make nice to the woman that you'll be working with. I hear she's a fiery one.

And the process would continue and continue until each family had a card; a mark that would increase the spirits of the higher order and the sorrows of the lowly lives.

However, though the caste system separated the inhabitants of the palace, there was a place within its stone walls that a group of Twili could mix and mingle, although certain restrictions applied. This was the nursery, a place located on the west wing of the second floor. The inhabitants of the palace (or, at least the adults) would deposit their offspring during the day while they were off serving the royal family. At this time, children of different classes would deconstruct the barrier that separated their parents from other parents by playing games and socializing in general. Here, a little one from the poorest family in the palace could make childish conversation with the kid of the royal family's most-trusted advisor.

The nursery was the only exception. If a couple from the upper class was caught mingling with paupers, extreme consequences would follow. Nobody even realized the irony in the situation. Instead, they simply continued to live out their isolated lives, oblivious to what was going on around them, while their children learned of suffering and blessings at an early age in their cozy little haven.

* * *

Lithia smiled as she took part in the beginning of her day. Her long and thin figure swept about the room, assorting objects in no particular order. Her daily duties as a maid gave her the habit of doing so. In a way, it was her own unique version of obsessive compulsion, or something that the rest of her family was forced to put up with while she was at home with nothing to do.

She heard a bump coming from the bedroom. Such a noise was to be expected at the same time every morning, as Beryll, now over one hundred years old, was beginning to lose his eyesight. Fortunately he could still read, which was vital in his occupation, but his ability to see things from afar was growing incredibly weak. Lithia could only wonder what he had bumped into this time, but paid no other thought to it. A small finger was tapping her calves, trying to get her to look down and get her attention.

Next to her right leg stood a scrawny little boy of about four years old, one hand playing around with his blond hair and the other using its fingers to get the attention of his mother. His pale yellow eyes stood out in the faint light from the room, and though they lacked the pupils of human eyes that Lithia had heard about, they were piercing just the same.

"Yes?" she asked in a motherly voice.

The small boy opened his mouth, but no words came out. Finally, he spoke. "Why is it that I can't come with you and Beryll?"

Lithia frowned. "Zant, I've told you this many times before. I'm your mother, and Beryll is your father… You have to learn to call him that. Maybe when you're older you can call us by our real names."

Zant frowned. "I'm sorry, Lithia."

"'Mother', you mean," she corrected. Zant didn't respond

"Anyway, Zant, I would absolutely love for you to go with me and see what I do with my friends, but I'm afraid that you're just not old enough to help me clean up the palace. Someday when you're a young lad instead of a boy I'll take you to help."

Zant's eyes seemed to dim with the disappointment. "What about Beryll?"

"Father's line of work is a bit tedious, and it's nothing that you could help him with. It involves a lot of thinking and hard work, and it would only tire you out. It still makes him tired."

As soon as she said this, Beryll came out of the bedroom, making final adjustments to his royal robes. Lithia turned to look at him and could see the exhaustion that she had just spoken of. His face was no longer young, and his eyes were dimmer than they were when she first fell in love with him. Still, he was very handsome, and she loved him just the same. She only wished that the child standing next to her was their own instead of someone else's, but the child himself had yet to learn about that, so it would have to do for now.

"You're mother is right, Zant," stated Beryll as he gazed into a mirror for any clothing that needed adjustment. "I expect to see you in high places when the time is right, though. You'll be the best advisor that the family has ever known."

Zant didn't respond in words but smiled at his father. He then skipped off towards the massive window that distinguished their apartment from the others. He often stood at the window everyday, looking through the thick glass to see hundreds of miles of the Twilight Realm before his very eyes. A lot of the time he would see some older children playing just outside the palace gates, and he wondered what it would be like to live outside in the wilderness instead of inside the gray walls of the palace. As soon as he would get to thinking about this, however, he would be distracted by something else and would have to leave the window for the time being.

Lithia walked up behind him and placed her hands on his small, dainty shoulders. Zant didn't turn his head to look up but continued to stare out into the void. He could tell Lithia was staring with him as well.

"Lithia," Zant began. "One day, all of this land is going to be mine!" He gave a laugh. "Yes it is!"

Lithia smiled, but did not laugh with her son. "And what are you going to do with all of it?" she asked in a playful voice.

"I'm going to give it all to you and Beryll."

Beryll had already walked out the door without saying goodbye. It was acceptable, though, because Lithia and Zant both knew that he hated to say his farewells, even if he knew that he would be reunited with the two at the end of the day. As they both continued to stare out of the window, Lithia wondered what her husband would think of her son's wish.

The clock rang in the back of the room and broke her train of thought. Zant ran out from under her hands and began to perform a dance around the room. "Nursery! Nursery!" he chanted as Lithia grabbed her shawl. They both left the room, leaving the room and the covenant window behind.

* * *

The two reached the large door that separated the cold palace halls from the warm nursery, and though both were ready to enter, Lithia had a harder time saying farewell to Zant than she thought she would have.

This must be the feeling that _real _mothers get.

Zant was still dancing around, anxious to get inside for the first time and meet a few children that would become his friends. His black robes, which he called his "advisor" robes because of their similarity to the ones that Beryll wore, were fluttering around and performing a dance of their own, falling Zant's frail body with every move that he made. Lithia finally got him to stop his bolero and managed to keep him still.

"Now listen, Zant," began Lithia she kneeled on the floor and began to adjust parts of Zant's robes, though both of them knew that nothing needed to be adjusted. "Try not to start any kind of commotion. You tend to get a little excited, and that is quite alright, but try to keep your energy under control."

"I will, Lithia". As she said this, Zant's little heart was racing on the inside. He had never gotten the chance to be with children his age, and now he was getting that chance. He made a promise to his own self that he would remember his first moments in the nursery forever.

As Lithia still fondled around with his clothes, she herself began to wonder just how Zant would be accepted. He was very… sophisticated when it came to certain matters, probably because of his father's wisdom and open opinions on things that Zant would overhear. She just hoped that the lesser children inside would realize his charm and politeness and quickly accept him into their little group, despite any intimidation that his more developed brain would make them feel.

"Now then, let's go inside." Lithia stood up and faked a smile. Zant began to dance around again and started to reach for the doorknob.

Lithia reached out and kept the child from opening the door. "Wait," she said over Zant's moan of despair. "I forgot to give you something."

Lithia reached into her shawl and pulled out a small, rectangular piece of yellow paper. Zant's eyes watched her hands as she fiddled around with something else, then watched as she lowered herself and pinned the paper onto his robes.

"Always wear this piece of paper," Lithia advised the boy. "Don't ever take it off, even if someone asks you to. If they do, say that you're mommy told you to keep it on, and if they keep trying to get you to remove it, tell a grown-up."

"What is it, Lithia?" asked Zant with curiosity.

"I wish I knew." She stood up and examined the boy. She had never supported the card policy that the royal family had introduced, and although she always made sure to wear her own card and follow the rules perfectly, she would often protest against the rule in front of her husband, who was slightly apathetic about the whole thing. However, he had just let her know that he and several other advisors began a draft to revoke the policy, and her heart was happy.

She gave Zant one more looking over. He was ready to be dropped off. "Shall we go inside?"

Zant didn't respond in words but continued his childish little dance. He reached for the doorknob and, unhindered by his mother, opened the door and immediately felt the warm air of the nursery strike his face. It was wonderful.

He skipped inside, his mother following closely behind, and proceeded to look around. The walls were not their usual gray but a soft shade of green, and this color change made him feel at home immediately. It was much cozier than that apartment he had grown so accustomed to, and it was a lot more cheerful. On the eastern wall roared a giant fire, with which several Twili children had developed an infatuation for.

One thing that he noticed, though, was that all of the children had cards on their clothes that were just like his, though a lot of them were different colors. He was able to spot out a few children with yellow cards, but all of the others had blue, red, green, purple… every color _but_ yellow!

He turned around to see if his mother approved and noticed that she had walked off to his left to speak to some older woman. He ran up to her and took his place, examining the woman's face. She was old and friendly, and the years had been hard of her, but she still smiled.

"Is this one yours?" the woman asked Lithia. She nodded her head.

"Yes ma'am, and for right now he's yours." Lithia turned to Zant and looked into his eyes. "I have to go now, you know."

"I do."

Lithia turned to the woman and frowned. "If something goes wrong, you can reach me in the kitchen, usually… He tends to get a little bit excited, but a reprimand will calm him down, and if you have anything that he could set his attention on for a couple of minutes, that would be excellent."

"You don't need to worry, Lithia," said the woman. "Go on. Enjoy your day."

Lithia nodded hastily and turned to Zant. He gazed up at her, smiling his usual smile and trying to impress her with his new yellow ornament.

Without saying goodbye, she turned on her heel and started for the door. She didn't bother to look back, as it was all too painful. If this was what mothers felt like, she thought to herself, she didn't understand how they went through such a trauma and all those other moments that went on for the rest of their lives.

Zant kept his eyes on the door that his mother had just gone through. He was neither happy, nor sad, but confused. He still didn't understand why she had to leave, or why he couldn't have gone with her to help her; he helped her around the apartment all the time. However, his concentration was broken by the older woman.

"Do you know any of the children here, Zant?" asked the woman. Zant smiled back at her.

"Nope," he answered abruptly.

"Well then, why don't you go over to the fire and make yourself warm and comfortable. The children over there are a friendly bunch, and I'm sure they'll grow to love you."

Zant did as he was advised and headed towards the roaring fire. He took his seat next to a boy a couple of years older than he was, but young nonetheless. He didn't speak, for he suddenly grew shy, but stared at the flames in front of him. He could feel the eyes of the boy next to him staring at his new yellow card, but he never said a word.

Finally, he spoke.

"My name is Rogen," he said in the lowest voice a child his age could achieve. "My father's a chef. What does your father do?"

Zant turned to the boy. "My name is Zant. My father's an advisor to the royal family."

"An advisor? Your father must be mean. My father told me that all of the advisors were bad guys that couldn't get anything done."

Zant frowned. "Beryll isn't mean or bad. He's a very nice person and he's good to me and my mother. All of the other advisors love him too. He said so himself!"

"You must be mean, too."

"I'm not mean… or, I don't try to be mean. I try to be nice."

"I wish that I could believe you, but my father always tells the truth. That's a fact."

"Rogen, you hush," snarled a small girl from Zant's left. "You're father is the mean one if he has to spread lies about people like that. My father is a chef as well, and he tells me and my mother that your father is one of the biggest liars that the kitchen staff has ever seen. He was probably lying to you so you could pick up his habits and be just like him."

Rogen glared at the accusing girl. "Shut up, Midna. Why do you always have to be mean too?" He turned his head back to Zant and stared into his small, frightened eyes. "What is honesty, anyway?"

Before Zant could think to answer, the old woman that had made him feel so welcome called the children over to her chair to hear a story. Zant, not wanting to leave the fire, stayed behind, and he soon found himself sitting in the company of the girl that had talked back to Rogen.

"Rogen is a bully," she said simply. "Most of the older kids are. They think that since they're older they're stronger and smarter. They're really, really stupid though!" Zant frowned and turned to face the other children, who were already so far apart from the two that their faces became indistinguishable. Neither one of them said a word for what felt like eternity, but the two were developing a bond of their own.

"My name is Midna," spoke the girl, breaking up the silence. "I don't think that I've seen you around before. Do you come here a lot?"

Zant shook his head. "This is my first day. I thought I would have fun, but I'm not having any."

Midna grabbed hold of Zant's arm. "The fun isn't in this place, silly. You have to get out of here and roam around if you're going to have a good time."

Before Zant could react the two were on their feet, heading over to the exiting door. He kept turning his head to see if the old woman would be watching them, but she was so into her own story that she could only see the stares of the curious children in front of her. The next thing he knew they were outside of the nursery, the warm air suddenly growing cold and the green walls turning into gray.

"Let's go to the top of the west tower," said Midna with a smile on her face. "Everything is so pretty from up there."

So the two of them went, hand and hand, to the top of the western tower. Zant had never been in such a high place before, and he was amazed that he could see more land from there than from the large window in his apartment. He began to think again of how all of those acres would be his own, and how he would give them to Lithia and Beryll someday. Someday…

The days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, and Lithia was having a harder time trying to keep Zant still so she could pin his yellow card to his robes and get him off to the nursery. She was horribly happy that he was so anxious to get to that childish, but it also made her a little sad. Ideas of Zant wanting to get away from his mother began to fill her head, and she found herself wanting to keep him with her all the time.

Everyday he and Midna would go off on some new adventure. One day they snuck into the kitchen and watched her father work from afar, knowing that if they got caught they would be sent back to the nursery. The old woman there never seemed to mind the children wandering off the way they did because she never knew, and as long as she didn't mind, the children had access to practically the entire palace.

When the children were no longer required to be in the nursery for the day, Beryll would often come home from his long day of work to find a small little girl in the apartment with Zant and his wife, and sometimes she would stay for dinner. He didn't mind the extra company, just so long as she behaved herself, and he was pleased to discover that she always did. One night he made a comment to his wife that the two children seemed to be more sophisticated than half of the adults that he worked with. It was a wonderful irony.

The only thing that Beryll and Lithia worried about was the fact that this strange girl, Midna, seemed to have been using Zant for her own amusement. Zant had often talked about how she was his best friend and how much fun he had with her, but the other child seemed to think otherwise. Zant wasn't a friend, but a lackey; an accomplice that could follow her around and assist with things that she wanted to do for herself and not for others. Much of the time she would boss Zant around, but he didn't mind. He was just grateful to have someone his age to follow.

One day the two of them snuck out of the nursery and into the kitchen, where they spotted a plate of freshly made pastries. They looked absolutely delicious, and the two of them discovered that their mouths began to water after merely looking at them. After a couple of minutes at staring down the plate, Midna took charge and began to order Zant around.

"Quick!" she muttered, poking her head around a corner to check her surroundings. "There's no one here! Get out there and get that plate of food!"

"What about you?" asked Zant, wondering what role his alleged friend would play in the scheme.

"I'll stand here and let you know when someone's coming. Now get out there."

Zant obeyed the girl without any question and ran into the kitchen, keeping his eyes on the plate of pastries. Just as he was about to reach up and grab them, he slipped on a small puddle of water that someone had left unattended, fell, and hit his head on the floor. His vision became blurry and he felt horribly dizzy, but he could hear Midna encouraging him to hurry up. He got up on his feet and grabbed the plate, then hurried back to where his friend was. The two of them then took off and ran into the storage room, where they ate the pastries with an audience of boxes and crates.

Twelve of the most delicious looking pastries were theirs for the picking. Midna got eight and Zant got four, because she was the one that had thought of the idea to get them in the first place and Zant only carried out the bland. Zant didn't question her decision making and ate his rations, keeping a hand on his bleeding head.

* * *

As the morning started to turn into day, Lithia wondered if she should let Zant go off to the nursery. He had come home the night before with a horrible bump on his head and his hair matted with blood, but before she could make up her mind the child was standing right before her. He had already dressed himself in his "advisor" robes and seemed rather determined to leave, but she still was unsure.

She got down on her knees and planted a kiss on his forehead. "Zant, are you sure that you want to go this morning? You hit your head rather hard last night, and I think it might not be a bad idea if you just stay here for the day."

"No Lithia, I want to go!" Zant cried with a smile. "I want to go and see Midna so we can play some more! I'm her best friend and she can't stand it when I'm not there to do stuff for her."

Lithia frowned at Zant's choice of words. "You mean 'with her', right Zant?"

"No. I meant 'for her'."

Before Lithia had time to respond, Beryll came walking into the room after bumping into some unfortunate piece of bedroom furniture. He made the adjustments on his clothes and looked over at the two that he loved most, smiled, and departed. Both of them stood there in an awkward silence, Zant becoming even more excited to get to the nursery and Lithia wondering about her son's social life.

Finally, she snapped out of it. "I'm sorry, Zant," she said. "My mind got a bit distracted. Let's go to the nursery."

For the entire trip Zant danced down the halls, happy to be on his way to meet up with his best friend. Lithia followed close behind, her mind still distracted.

The two reached the door to the nursery and Lithia once again got on her knees. She took out the yellow card that Zant had grown used to and pinned it to his robes, then looked into her son's eyes. He was beaming, and because of this she was happy.

The two departed, and Zant entered the warm air of the nursery, knowing that he wasn't going to be there for long. Already he was wondering what kind of adventure he and his friend would be getting into.

Midna was sitting in front of the fire, as usual. Zant hurried over and took a seat next to the girl, who exchanged glances with him. The two sat there in silence until the rest of the children were called over to hear a story from the old woman. As soon as she did, life sprang back into both of them, and they began to stir around.

Midna was the first to speak. "Come on, Zant," she said to her lackey. "Let's go to the ballroom today. The room is very large and they always keep the floor slippery, so we should be able to have a lot of fun down there."

She got up and began to head over to the door, knowing that the old woman wasn't even paying the slightest attention to either one of them. Zant got up to follow, and as soon as he caught up to her he realized that she wasn't wearing her usual card.

"Midna, what did you do with your card? You're not wearing it," he commented. Midna turned and faced him, looked down at her clothes, and realized that he was right.

"My mother must have forgotten to pin it on me this morning. She was very busy, so that's probably why." She looked at Zant's yellow card and smiled. "You should take yours off also!"

Zant frowned and looked down at the yellow strip. Immediately Lithia's warnings came back to him and flooded his mind, reminding him that something bad was probably to happen if he took the card off of his robes. "My mother told me not to do that. She said it could get me in trouble, I think."

It was Midna's turn to frown. "But that wouldn't be fair. I don't have one, and it would be harder for me to go and get mine so we could both have one, so why don't you just take yours off and we won't have to worry about being different? Or are you afraid that your mommy will get you in trouble?" She stuck out her tongue at this and grinned.

Zant sighed, closed his eyes, and began to fiddle around with the pin that held the card in place. He finally took it off and waited for the worst… Nothing happened. He was surprised to realize that no one had scolded him, or that he wasn't hurt. Instead, he was still the same, normal Zant that he always was, with or without the added yellow.

"Now, come on!" Midna grinned. "It's time to go play and do stuff."

The two of them exited the room and walked down the hallway that had grown oh-so familiar to the both of them. Had this been the first time they left, both of them would have flinched from the sudden loss of heat in the surrounding air. They were far used to the drastic change by now and went on unaffected.

As soon as they entered the ballroom, both of them were amazed at the sight before them. The stone gray walls that built the palace had turned into a black marble, reflecting each and every movement that went on in the giant place. Both of them knew from the start that at least a thousand full-grown adults could fit in the place with plenty of room to dance. The floor was the same black marble that made up the walls, which made it difficult to distinguish where the floor ended and where the walls began. However, the five chandeliers that hung from above and the large windows provided more than enough light to tell where you were going and what direction you shouldn't be heading in.

Midna was the first to overcome her fascination. She began to run, and as soon as she was several feet from the door that she entered she stopped. The momentum that she had gained carried her across the slippery floor, and though she was sure she was stable, she lost her balance and fell. The momentum still dragged her across, but she had to enjoy herself from her posterior. That made it a whole lot more fun.

Soon enough, the momentum departed from her body and left her sitting motionless on the floor. She was already many feet away from Zant, leaving him practically alone in the massive ballroom. "Come on Zant!" she motioned him. "Try it out! It's a lot of fun!"

Zant didn't hesitate and quickly ran forward, dropping to his rump to stop himself. He slid in the same fashion, enjoying himself to no end. He too came to a stop, practically right next to Midna, and expressed his happiness with a laugh. "You're right! It _is _fun!"

The two immediately began the process again, repeating it as soon as they stopped from that second time. They were about to go at it again, but they stopped right before when they heard the chatter of several women coming in there direction.

Midna's look of happiness was replaced by a look of terror. "Someone's coming! Come on Zant! We have to hide!"

Zant didn't think twice about questioning his friend's decision making and quickly followed after her. She led him into a small storage closet, where they both noticed that several band instruments were being kept until the next ceremonial ball. Despite the darkness that resulted from the closed door, the two were able to watch where they were going and made sure that neither one of them collided into anything.

The chatter began to become more audible, and it was clear that the visiting party was now in the ballroom.

"It's probably just a couple of maids here to clean the floor and stuff," Midna explained in a whisper to Zant, who never asked to know who it was. "I really hope that they don't come in here!"

Zant agreed and began to shuffle around. He was very uncomfortable where he was hiding and hoped that maybe the maids would leave soon. As he readjusted himself, he bumped into one of the instruments and heard it make a small noise.

"Quit shifting around, stupid!" Midna snapped at the boy. "You're going to get us into trouble!"

Midna didn't realize the irony of her statement when the chattering voices stopped and began to question each other.

"Did you hear that, dearie?"

"I think I did. What was it?"

"I'm thinking that someone is in here eavesdropping on us!"

"Oh, how delightful! Shall we try to find them and let them know that we're here?"

"I think we shall. Let's drop a visit."

The two children in the storage closet gave each other a glance in the darkness. Though they couldn't quite tell, both of them had a motif of fear on their faces.

Inevitably, the door to the storage room opened and exposed the two children to the light. There stood a horribly plump woman, her cheeks large and round, and a woman who very well resembled a broom. They both had smiles on their faces, but when they noticed that their eavesdroppers were mere children, they quickly gained a look of surprise.

"Rona!" cried the fat one. "There are children in here!"

"There certainly are, Malina," answered the broom woman. "Did you two get lost?"

Zant and Midna were at a loss of words, and they merely stared at the two strange women in front of them.

"Come now, children," cried Malina with delight as she squatted down to their height. "There's no need to worry. Come with Aunty Malina and Aunty Rona! We'll get you back to the nursery without a problem."

Rona smacked Malina on the back of the head. The fat woman reached back and touched the sore spot, giving a look at the broom woman in scorn. Rona, on the other hand, was pointing towards the two children. "Look!" she exclaimed. "Neither of the children has a card pinned to their clothes!"

The two children looked at each other in shock, then down at their clothes. She was right, as Midna's mother had forgotten to put hers on, and Zant had taken it off so she would be happy! What was going to happen to them now, neither one of them knew.

"What was it that we were supposed to do, Malina?" asked Rona as she looked to her fat friend. "We were supposed to do something if someone was caught without a card… What was it?"

"I believe that we have to take them to the king and queen," stated Malina matter-of-factly. "Yes, that's what we must do! Children, how would you like to come with us and meet the king and queen of the Twilight Realm? Such an honor is hardly given to those who ask for it."

Before either one of them could respond, the woman named Rona grabbed hold of each one of the children by the hand and began to lead them away. "Come now. We'll go with you, so it's alright. Nothing's going to happen to you."

"Possibly," muttered Malina to herself as Rona walked off. She closed the door to the storage area and quickly followed suit.

* * *

Before either one of them knew what was going on, Zant and Midna found themselves standing before a large Twili man and woman sitting in thrones before them. Both of them wore huge, oversized robes of jet black, putting the color of Zant's to the test. The man wore a bejeweled crown on his head, and the woman next to him clutched a gold scepter tightly in her hand. Both of them wore giant white masks to hide their faces, making them only more menacing to the children before them. However, behind the masks, both faces were filled with compassion for the two small ones, and they soon found themselves pouting over their own policies.

The queen of the Twilight Realm placed her free hand on her husband's. "Dear," she began, becoming suddenly informal with the king of the entire land. "Can't we let them off without any charge? They're merely children."

The king shook his massive head, and mask moved about with it. "I wish that we could, but the laws make no exceptions. We're going to have to treat them like all other criminals."

"Please, your majesties," spoke Zant with little fear in his voice. "Please don't get my friend in trouble. She doesn't have her card with her because her mother forgot to put it on when she was being dropped off at the nursery. I took mine off on my decision. Please, only get me in trouble and let my friend go."

Midna was stunned.

"I'm sorry, child," began the king, "but I'm going to have to sentence both of you to the basements as if you were any other person." He paused and took a look at the boy that was brave enough to stand up for his companion. "You're Beryll's boy, aren't you?"

"Yes sir. Beryll is my father, and Lithia is my mother."

The king turned to the queen. "We'll definitely report these two to their parents at once. Beryll is one of our most trusted advisers." As the queen began to nod in agreement, the king then turned back to Zant and the silent Midna. "Until then, children, I'm afraid that you're going to have to go to the basement. You won't be in there for long, and until then, you'll be fine. It's not warm and it's not dry, but it's better than having to be sentenced."

The king snapped his fingers, and immediately two guards came out from what seemed like nowhere. "You are to take these two to the basement," ordered the king without taking his eyes off the children. "Please, make sure that they get there safely, and that you treat each one of them with respect. You must not treat them roughly."

The two children found themselves being led away by the two guards, and before they left the royal throne room, Zant looked back to see the king and queen one last time. There they sat, and as soon as they realized he had turned to look at them, they slowly began to wave goodbye.

* * *

It took approximately twenty minutes to descend from the top of the northernmost tower to the basement, but to Midna and Zant, it seemed to take three times as long. Either way, both soon found themselves in the dark depths of the basement, already feeling chilled from the sudden temperature change of cold to colder.

Neither one of them knew what the underground chambers were going to look like, but they both could agree that they were going to be dreadful. And dreadful they were! The gray walls appeared blue with the lack of light, and the air was horribly damp and musky. Had the guards been there to stay with them, they would have felt more at ease, but both of them had turned to go back to the throne room that they came from. Zant and Midna were left alone as soon as they first entered the horrible place.

"Zant," began Midna, wide eyes looking around. "I'm scared. I've never been in a place like this before. I want to go home. I want to be with my mother and father."

"I do too," agreed the boy, "but our parents will be here shortly to get us. The king said that he was going to tell my father, and that we'd be able to get out of here as soon as he came to get us. We'll be in here for a very short time, I hope."

The two of them continued to stand just before the door, both of them afraid to take a step further into the dark rooms in front of them. Finally, Zant mustered the courage to take those few steps, and Midna followed shortly behind when she discovered that nothing had happened to him.

Both of them soon discovered that they weren't the only two in the basement. They were amazed to find out that practically an entire subdivision of sorts was established here. Families that had never showed their faces above showed them off to Zant and Midna, who began to develop a new sense of fear. The faces were almost hollow and lifeless, and it became a horror to stare into a pair of eyes for too long. No one spoke to the two children but merely stared, and Midna soon found herself frozen in fright. Zant was finally able to lead her stiff body away, taking her to a place where the two could be alone.

They sat there for minutes, and soon enough the minutes turned into hours. They had relocated themselves into a small corner, where they watched from afar the many people and the rats that sought their company. Neither one of them said a word until Midna, after what seemed like an eternity, broke the silence with a sneeze.

"I'm so cold," she whispered. "And hungry. I hate this place! It's cold and wet and it smells. I want to go home!"

"Are you cold?" asked Zant. He smiled and moved closer to his friend. Wrapping his arms around her, he held her close. "Here. When I get cold Lithia holds me like this. Then I warm up."

Midna was uncomfortable at first, but she soon found out that Zant's mother had a proper method. Immediately she could feel the warmth from Zant's body flow into hers, and she found herself getting over the sudden chill that she had developed. They sat there together for a very long time.

Suddenly she began to realize just how much she must have meant to Zant. She had merely seen him as an accomplice; a lackey that would do what she told him to do. Zant, on the other hand, apparently thought of her as a true friend. She became overwhelmed, and she knew from the bottom of her heart that she had wronged him way too many times to be forgiven. He seemed to think otherwise, though.

They sat together for several more minutes until they noticed that the door to the basement had been opened. Four people entered the vicinity of the place, each one of them looking around as if searching for something. Suddenly, a tall woman began to cry out. "Midna!"

Midna smiled. "Mother?" She got up off the ground and headed over to the group. "Mother!"

A woman in a maid's outfit shrieked in joy and bent down to intercept her child. They met each other in a giant embrace, and as soon as that embrace was made Midna found herself being lifted off of the ground and spun around. A man that Zant couldn't recognize took hold of the girl once her mother was done and repeated the process, showering his daughter with a tremendous amount of love.

Zant soon made out the personas of Beryll and Lithia, standing with the other two and sharing their happiness. "Zant!" cried out the advisor as he noticed that his son was there as well. "Zant! We're over here!"

The small boy was given a similar reception that Midna was given, and he never felt happier to see his parents. Once he was set free from their embrace he began to dance to express his enthusiasm, and he found himself dancing towards the door out of the basement, where the same guards as before held the door open to ensure that they would be able to leave without a problem.

The six left the horrible chamber, each one personally vowing to never return to it again.

* * *

Zant was happy to be back in the apartment again. He had forgotten how it had its own sense of warmth and coziness, though he had never realized it before. He no longer had to depend on the nursery as a source of comfort; he could always return home, where he was supposed to be.

Midna underwent a change as well. Before they departed after that horrible episode in the underground chambers, she had given Zant a giant embrace. This was her token of appreciation, and she finally realized that she had been using Zant for all of the wrong reasons. He was so brave, standing up for her in the throne room, and so generous, providing her warmth with his own embrace down in the basement. Perhaps it was a good idea to get to know him better so that they could be true friends; friends that would last for a very long time.

When she was tucked into bed and first closed her eyes, she hopes that this would happen soon.

* * *

A/N: Hello all. I realize that I haven't updated this in quite a while, and for that I apologize. However, I can assure you that my reasons are justified and that I'm not lazy! Academics are my primary concern, and I'm in all honors classes, so as of late I've been having to study for AP testing, I'm pleased to report that all of my determination and hard work has paid off, as I am, according to reliable sources, the first in my class, or the valedictorian of the high school juniors!

Of course, summer's coming up soon, which means that I'll be able to have a life again. I'll be able to update more frequently during that time period, but I can't make guarantees. The new _Harry Potter_ book is coming out, as well as a new album by my favorite modern band (I have no idea how that fits into a busy schedule, but whatever), so I might be a little bit too distracted to write as much as I could. I'm pleased to say that I have a general outline of what's going to happen in the future chapters, though, so it's not like it's going to take a long time to write them out.

As always, God bless, and take care. And if you get the chance to buy it, _Icky Thump_ by the White Stripes, the album that I mentioned above, hits American shelves on June 19th. Germans get it first, though, on the 15th, and the dudes in the UK get it on the 18th. I hope you guys know that you suck. (

Later, dudes.


	4. Interactions

Several months following the previous anecdote, the king and queen abolished the social barrier that had been placed upon all residents of the Twilight Realm. The caste system was entirely thrown aside; all people that wanted to progress through life instead of remain in the same place at all times were allowed to do so, and the doors to new opportunities were open. The first breakthrough was made when Arkania, a woman who had been secluded to the cold and damp cellars of the palace her entire life, became a high priest. In a way, a gender barrier was also broken, due to the fact that she was the first woman to ever achieve such a position.

There were still obstacles for the people to overcome, however. For example, the high priests at the time of Arkania's appointment disapproved of the change; the religion of Solism prohibited female leadership in all things religious. Though the gods were unhappy, the people were not, and the deities had yet to do anything about the happiness and rebellion of the commoners. As such, no barriers that remained were too strong to keep the people in their place.

Such a change could only have resulted from a drastic event, and a drastic event it was indeed. Two young children had been sentenced to the dungeons due to their lack of following the rules and obstructing the societal wall. After their sentence, the king and queen were distraught. The victims were merely children, and yet they were being forced to prematurely decide what their futures would hold. Their emotions eventually overcame the formal law, as such things usually do, and the rules were abolished.

The fact that so many doors were opened to the people contributed to its name, the Open Door Policy. Its statement was simple: _All people in the Twilight Realm, regardless of gender or social class, have equal opportunities in advancing or limiting their positions and impacts on society. Any laws creating a new social barrier are hereby unlawful and obstruct the will of the people, which is most important. _

And so began the sense of democracy in the Twilight Realm.

* * *

Beryll admired his work from afar, too old and too tired to approach it and admire it up close for the time being. Bubbling in a cauldron over the fireplace was a thick amber liquid, emitting puffs of smoke and a gentle fragrance that complimented the appearance of the apartment's kitchen quite nicely. Making Twili whiskey was no easy task, for precision in time and ingredients was necessary. Beryll never had any problems due to his father's skill, passed from generation to generation and inevitably to himself, but as he grew older and weaker, he couldn't help but feel that this might be his last cauldron before he passed on the recipe to one of his own.

Just as he began to think of such things, Zant came out of his bedroom with a book bag slung over his shoulder. He sniffed the air and grimaced, his nostrils still unaccustomed to the strong odor. He saw his father sitting there, however, and the grimace quickly turned into a grin. "Your last batch, I hope," he snickered as he headed towards the table.

"I'm afraid it might be," Beryll replied. "It might sound pathetic to one as young as yourself, but I'm getting a little too old to keep making this."

"It's not pathetic," replied Zant, quickly shoveling some jam onto a piece of bread that his mother had put out for him. "I think it's great to have a hand-me-down tradition of some sort. It keeps the memories of the past alive. But still, I would have to say that the process is way too complex… How long does it take to make this? A week?"

"And a half," added the old man as he grinned. "I think you know what I mean, though. It's becoming too much of a hassle to make such a small quantity of liquor."

"And it's disgusting."

Beryll scoffed. "It's liquor. It's not going to taste like sugar."

"Whatever." Zant finished what remained of his bread and headed towards the door. "Maybe when I take your place as advisor to the throne, you'll have more time to focus on making this garbage. Either way, I'm off to lessons now."

And with that, the young Twili exited the apartment, leaving his father alone to admire the apparently hideous smell. Beryll had never even had the chance to tell the boy his hopes to teach him the recipe, but the more he thought about it, the more he figured that maybe it wasn't so important after all. After all, it was only tradition.

Sighing, he slowly stood up and headed towards the cauldron. It was time to stir.

* * *

The hallway was unusually bitter this morning. Clutching tightly to his books, Zant attempted to warm himself up by wrapping his black cloak around his body. It was a long walk to the top of the northern tower, and he knew that the dreaded place was going to be even more miserable than the hallway could ever be, but at the same time he was determined to reach his destination. Both of his parents wanted him to become a successful advisor like his father, and the more he thought about it, the more he desired to become one as well. Now that he was able to enroll in lessons, preparing him for such a task, he could have a better chance at becoming one.

Lost in thought, he managed to see another Twili just ahead of him. Evidently the Twili had heard someone approaching from behind, causing him to turn around in curiosity. As soon he saw Zant's face, he grinned and slowed down so he might be able to catch up.

"Fine weather this morning, isn't it?" asked the Twili as steam came out of his mouth.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Zant in false enthusiasm as he caught up to his companion, a young boy by the name of Rogen.

The history between the two boys was complex. Both children had previously gone to the nursery of the palace, where they first encountered each other and got off to a bad start. Rogen's father, who was a chef, had apparently confused the boy by telling him that advisors to the royal family, and all others associated with such a position, were cruel and unjust, causing him to treat Zant as hostile. Quickly after that incident, Rogen became interested in the cursed position and realized that he and Zant shared many of the same interests. The two boys became inseparable ever since.

Despite their similar interests, the personalities of the two couldn't have been anything alike. Rogen was a troublemaker, or was at least identified as one by all who knew him, and his mischievous attitude often got the best of him in public. However, his good nature was often predominant over his faults; those that he had angered as a result of some practical joke or prank found that it was impossible to hold a grudge against the boy for too long. As long as he had his smile and charisma, he was well off. Zant, on the other hand, was far more interested in what he read as opposed to what all he did. While he did have friends, and plenty of them, he would find that time alone with a book was far more important than time spent with society. He was never known to procrastinate like his best mate, always thinking that an assignment should be done as soon as it was assigned. After he completed his assignment, however, he would become a seemingly normal person and would mingle with his friends, though he would never get involved in Rogen's antics. Still, he was unusually popular, despite his partially reclusive lifestyle.

Another difference between the two was how they reacted to the threat of competition. Rogen was indifferent to everything, as was reflected by his laidback nature and optimistic attitude. Zant, on the other hand, was competitive beyond measure. Everything was a vicious battle, whether it was level of intelligence, reputation, or finance. How he managed to have so many friends was a cause of confusion amongst those that knew him.

As soon as the two boys came upon their destination, the top of the northern tower, their conversation stopped and their differences overcame them. Rogen immediately headed towards his fellow pranksters, the fraternal twins Vanadia and Nikelo, while Zant followed with a serious look upon his face. This was a classroom, and all things taught in a classroom should be taken with respect and attentiveness. There was a time for antics and games later.

The top of the tower was no better than the hallway leading to its winding staircase. The air must have dropped several degrees as soon as the two boys walked through the doorway, causing them to shiver slightly as they made their way through the room. The top of the tower, a room used primarily for orientations and meetings, had been transformed into a classroom; several large wooden desks, seating four students at a time, were placed throughout the room and facing a desk for the teacher. Many students were already there, chattering to their friends next to them.

As soon as the two boys sat down, Vanadia, the older of the twins, turned her gaze towards Zant and began to speak. "Zant, where have you been for the last month? We all thought that you died."

"Not that I know of," stated Zant as he placed a book on his desk and opened it to where he had dog-eared a page.

Nikelo jumped to his sister's defense. "But you did die! We saw bulletins!" Then, speaking in an official sounding voice, he pretended to read off a bulletin board. "Zant, son of Beryll and Lithia, found dead! The corpse of the boy was discovered with his head up his ass. Apparently he died of suffocation."

A girl that was sitting in front of the foursome whipped her head around and batted her eyes. A scowl had crept over her face and her mouth had opened slightly. "Oh, that is _rancid_," she commented, refusing to take her eyes off the troublesome boy.

Nikelo shrugged. "Call it what you want. I'm just citing cold, hard gossip here."

"I hate to disprove your… 'sources'," remarked the girl in a bitter tone, "but I believe the boy is sitting here right next to you. He seems fine and well."

"And he has a clean face," added Rogen, ensuring a laughter from the twins. Zant smirked and continued to read. The girl, however, turned to face the front of the room, a look of fury and annoyance on her face.

"Who is that girl anyway?" muttered Vanadia to the other boys. "I don't think I've ever seen her before."

"I don't know," answered Rogen. "Definitely seems like the kind that you would rather stay away from though, don't you think? All that stuffy attitude and bitter personality."

"Quite a looker though," Nikelo commented.

"Oh please!" Vanadia rolled her eyes. "And just what do you know about girls, Nikelo?"

"He knows plenty about girls! He lives with a beautiful one!" Rogen beamed at his remark.

Zant, on the other hand, scoffed. "Yeah, his sister."

Before the other three could laugh, the door in the back of the room burst opened. The room grew quiet as everyone turned around to see who had so rudely entered. The students saw a tall man draped in black robes, several cords of different colors tied around his waist. He quickly made his way to the front of the room and stood behind the desk, looking at the silent children in front of him. Finally, he began to speak.

"Good morning to you all," he said in a rough and raspy voice. "My name is Advisor Ramakl, former advisor to the royal family of the Twilight Realm and current chief of the advisors guild in the palace. I have been assigned by the king and queen to lecture you all in just what it takes to become a member of such an esteemed position." He paused and looked around the room for a few more seconds. "I see that there are well over twenty of you enrolled in this class. I am sorry to say that only an averaged twenty-five percent of the students usually prove to have what it takes to become an advisor to the family; in this instance, roughly five of you. However, I do not wish to discourage you! You all have the ability to prove this statistic wrong if you determine yourself to pass this course and show your worth of serving the family. I see that this young man near the front is already willing to show me he believes he has the proper skills needed."

The room looked in the direction that Ramakl was looking to see Zant, his head lowered and still reading from the thick volume he had placed on his desk earlier. Noticing the silence, Zant looked up and noticed everyone's eyes were fixed on him, including those that were sitting at his same desk.

"I encourage you all to be like this young lad," smiled the teacher as the class returned its gaze upon him. "However, I would like you to put your book away, sir. There will be plenty of time to read later."

Zant closed the volume and placed it under his seat, trying his best to ignore the fact that many of his classmates began to snicker quietly after his slight reprimanding. Shortly afterwards, however, the class once again centered its attention on the old man in front of them.

"Now then, we are going to jump right into the program. We are expected to finish this course before the month of Kofi. I realize that this is a short amount of time, but I think you would agree that such a limited duration will help separate out those incapable of the advisory position from those that are quite able." Ramakl paused and placed a hand up to his chin, examining the pupils before him. "If I have discouraged any of you, you may go ahead and leave. I am not stopping you. I hear that there are plenty of open slots in the culinary class."

Select pupils in the class began to chuckle amongst themselves, including Rogen, whose father was a chef for the royal family. Zant cracked a smile, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that the girl sitting in front of them cast her head down in what appeared to be shame. He shrugged this off immediately and returned his attention to the front of the room.

Ramakl turned around and faced the blank wall of the room. He then waved his hand through the air, the result of which caused a shower of red sparks to materialize as if out of nowhere. Several students muttered to themselves, a few of them shocked, never having seen such a thing before. Nevertheless, the sparks began to form into floating letters which attached themselves to the wall, forming glittering words that shone in full view of the class. _Key Tasks of the Position_, they said.

"Like many things, the office of advisory has key points that it focuses on." Ramakl turned back to face the class and ignored the still-shocked faces on several of the students. "In this case, there are three. Could anybody tell me the first task that all advisors should fulfill?"

Immediately, Zant raised his hand. This caught the Advisor's attention, who gestured at him to speak.

"Provide assistance to creating domestic policies," stated the boy, matter-of-factly.

Ramakl said nothing but waved his hand throughout the air again, causing more red sparks to form in the air. Zant's statement, word for word, soon appeared under the title of the list that was soon to be completed.

"The second point?"

Zant once again raised his hand, proud to be able to show off all of the information that he had learned over the summer. Vanadia rolled her eyes.

However, Ramakl never gestured at Zant. He instead fixed his gaze on the girl that sat in front of him, who had the only other hand up besides his own. In protest, he never lowered his, hoping that she would somehow get the fact wrong.

The girl lowered her hand and clasped it with the other on her desk. "Provide assistance to the management of finance and other economic sects."

Ramakl once again waved his hand to create the other point of the list. Rogen elbowed his companion in the side and muttered the word "competition", giving a nod to the girl. Zant thought nothing of it.

"And the final point?"

Before Zant could even raise his hand, the girl once again proved faster.

"Provide assistance to maintain the peace or succeed in war."

"That's two out of three!" whispered Nikelo. "She won that one."

Zant turned to send a look of disapproval at the boy, but he noticed the girl turn to look at him. She had a smirk on her face, which only added to his frustration. She then winked at him and turned to face the teacher once again.

Rogen opened his mouth to say something to his comrade, but he soon fell mute when Ramakl once again faced the class to continue his lecture.

"I believe that these two students will be one of the few that succeed in making the position," commented the Advisor as he looked in their general direction. "You would all do well to follow their example and learn from them as well as from me, especially from the fine young lady."

Zant ignored the teacher for the rest of the seminar, deciding instead to stare at the girl sitting directly in front of him. He was slightly disgruntled; he had spent the majority of his free time studying his school books so that he might have an advantage, and yet, here was a girl that he did not even know the name of who was able to think even more quickly than he. He suddenly became entranced by her. She was a very beautiful girl. Her skin appeared flawless in the dank room, much like silk. Her hair, neatly flowing down her back, was a vibrant red that reminded him of fire. As she turned her head to look at some sudden distraction, it followed her head so perfectly that he knew it to feel like velvet. He was hypnotized by her beauty, and yet, he wasn't quite sure if he despised the girl for the previous incident or liked her for being both intelligent _and_ beautiful.

While Zant was making these observations, raindrops began to fall and collect on the window. The class moaned, as they all knew that the rain would make the air wet, only to make the cold atmosphere even worse. Zant was taken out of his trance when the commotion started and turned to look at Rogen, who grinned. Ramakl, who immediately noticed the class's sudden disinterest in remaining in the tower, sighed and commented on the weather.

"The humidity that will collect in the tower will only make it seem much colder. And besides, we can't put any of you at risk of getting sick. I believe that we're going to have to reschedule this class for another day. You are excused."

The majority of the Twili immediately got out of their seats and made their way for the back door. While his comrades were among the quick-footed, Zant remained in his place, slowly picking up his books from under his chair and yet keeping his eye on the girl. She too was taking her time, though she seemed to be merely keeping collective as opposed to becoming too excited. She gathered her things before him, however, and stood up to leave the room. As she began to head towards the door she caught Zant's eye, turned her head to look at him, and smiled. She then proceeded out of the room, leaving Zant behind.

Gathering his wits about him, he finished gathering his things, muttered a goodbye to the Advisor that taught him little that day, and discovered that Rogen had been waiting for him.

"It took you long enough to unglue your rear from the chair," commented his friend as the two began to wander down the hallway. "What were you doing in there, anyway?"

"Trying to figure out who that girl was in front of us," replied Zant. "Do you have any idea who she is?"

"You mean the one that wiped the floor with you?"

"…Yes. That one."

"I have no idea. She seemed rather rude though, don't you think?"

"I found myself to be quite polite, actually."

The two boys turned around to see the very same girl that they had just been talking about. The look on her face suggested that she didn't seem to care for Rogen's statement, but she remained silent on this.

"I'm sorry that you weren't able to answer the other two questions in time, Zant," she went on to say, giving her full attention to the less insulting boy. "I was actually expecting you to do quite better than that. I hope that we can both blame it on the weather and that you won't disappoint me next time."

Before Zant could say anything, Rogen butted in. "Oh, you know that he'll completely obliterate you, Miss. Don't bother to show your face at the next class. You'll humiliate yourself, lest you wear a bag over your head. Either way, I'd advise you do that."

"How some people manage to be so crass is beyond me." The girl sneered at Rogen and returned her attention to Zant. "Please prove me correct next time. I hate to be wrong."

With this, the girl turned on her heel and walked way, never once glancing back at the two boys.

"What an absolute bitch!" bluntly stated Rogen. "To think that some women are like that! I take it that dignity and meekness are no longer taught in the household."

"And you are the one to talk, am I right?" asked Zant as the two resumed their walk down the hallway. "You weren't exactly polite to her."

"Well, she wasn't exactly polite to you either, was she?" Rogen smirked. "No, she wasn't polite at all. What say you and I enjoy our free afternoon by pulling a little prank on her?"

Zant returned the look with confusion, but a small grin began to form on his face all the same. "And what are you suggesting, might I ask?"

"Nothing too complex. You know how I like to be simple. I suggest rigging a device to make her such an absolute mess that she will cry, scream, and enter a dangerous stage of fury. She would then have to take several hours to fix herself up to appear the way she does now. Granted, she might look much more appealing in her immediate state when we're done with her, so we're going to have to do her a favor and make it something huge."

"That sounds quite brilliant. But what should we use to decrease her ugliness?"

Rogen paused, his smirk replaced by a look of general confusion. "That's quite a good question. Tell me, Zant, what is the rankest thing that you can think of?"

The two boys began to search their minds for a substance that they could use to "beautify" the strange girl. After several seconds of thinking, Zant remembered the smell of his family's apartment before he left for school.

"My father brews his own whiskey," stated Zant. "I'm sure you've smelt it before."

Rogen grimaced. "Yes, I have, and that's bound to be the greatest idea ever. Zant, my boy, how did you get so brilliant?"

Zant never did answer this, and the boys continued their journey through the palace in relative silence. Rogen was developing his plan, muttering to himself in all seriousness, while Zant merely walked with his destination in mind. The two eventually came to the door of Zant's apartment, and they could smell the strong scent leaking through the crack under the door.

"I'm going to have to go for now," said Rogen, stopping just in front of the door and turning to face his comrade. "If you can manage to sneak that stuff out of your apartment, meet me downstairs in the kitchen at midnight. I think I have a plan for luring that girl down there."

Zant grinned in response, his facial expression alone being enough to tell his comrade that he would, indeed, be in the kitchen at midnight. The two parted ways, Rogen continuing down the hall and Zant fumbling with the apartment's doorknob, which had apparently jammed during the day.

When he managed to pry the door open, the smell of that horrible whiskey ran into his nostrils, which crinkled at the sudden change of odor. As he laid his books on top of the kitchen table, he peered into the large cauldron that had been there this morning to find, sure enough, his father's whiskey, still brewing away. It was going to be the perfect material to use for the prank.

As Zant began to make himself comfortable, exhausted from the long walk from the top of the tower and from the cold that had drained him of warmth, he thought that he heard sobs coming from the bedroom. At first he thought nothing of it; it was most likely his mother, reading one of her silly books that she borrowed from her fellow maids. Curiosity soon got the best of him, though, when the sobs suddenly turned into a loud wail and a large man he recognized as the palace doctor came walking out of the bedroom. Zant leapt to his feet, his robes flying this way and that as he briskly walked from the fireplace to the bedroom door, his heart racing and his curiosity making his stomach flip.

As soon as he opened the door, he wished that he hadn't. There was his mother, sure enough, but she was not leaning over a book like he had first expected. She was, instead, sitting in a chair which was positioned to face the left side of the bed, her face in her cupped hands and her hair hanging limply over her shoulders. There, in the bed, lay a mass covered in quilts and sheets. At first Zant could only tell that it was in the shape of a person; just who it was, however, was a mystery. He crept closer to the bed, hoping to see just some kind of sign as to who it was on the mattress. Soon enough, he saw a face, one that looked almost exactly like his father's.

But this couldn't have been his father. The man that Zant had known, though growing older and weaker, still had the radiant signs of life in his face and eyes. The man on the bed had no features like this; his cheeks were dull, and his eyes pale and blank. And yet, there was no denying the fact that Beryll was dead.

* * *

The group of friends stood side-by-side as they watched the gravedigger fill the hole that Beryll's casket was placed in. None of them said a thing, their minds too occupied with various thoughts. How was it that a man who had been healthy enough in the morning become dead before the day was even over? It didn't make sense; at least, not to the four who stood there watching.

The rest of the funeral party had left long ago. A surprisingly large amount of the Twili came for Beryll's funeral, ranging from friends of the family to people who had simply heard of the man's deeds while he served for the king and queen. Indeed, both the heads of state arrived for a brief while, personally paying their respect to the wife of the man who served them so well. And yet, they left nearly just as soon as they came, all of them eager to restart their lives. Even Lithia had left, too tired to stay any longer. Zant, on the other hand, wanted to wait until there was nothing else to be done.

Rogen, Vanadia, and Nikelo stood next to him like the true friends that they were, eager to make sure their comrade was going to be fine by himself. Neither of them knew what to say; Beryll's death was just as big of a shock to all of them as it was to Zant and Lithia. They all knew, however, that they were in a time where words weren't necessary.

When the gravedigger placed his last scoop of dirt into the hole, packing it with the back of his spade, Zant broke the silence. "You can all return to the palace if you want. I'm going to stay a little while longer."

Vanadia spread her arms apart and embraced the boy tightly. "You let us know if you ever need anything, Dearest," she said warmly. "We're going to always be here for you."

"I appreciate that." Zant watched over Vanadia's shoulder as the gravedigger walked away, moving on to newer projects himself. "I'd like to be alone for a while, though."

Vanadia let go of the boy and turned to look at her brother and friend, who merely stood there in silence. Without a word, the three turned to go, a part of them unwilling to leave their dear friend behind. And yet, it was what he wanted, and that was good enough reason for them.

Although he had said that he wanted to stay for a while longer, Zant remained at the sight for approximately one extra minute. There was only so much that he could have done, and all that was left was to mourn and stare at the grave. He had done both long enough, and it was time to return to the palace and try to resume his own life, just like the rest of the mourners.

As he turned to go, he noticed someone standing a few feet away, their eyes fixed on him as he moved away from the grave. The person began to move in his direction; probably another mourner that wanted to give their condolences. To his surprise, it was the strange girl that he and Rogen had planned to pull a prank on, had the death not gotten in the way of things.

"Hello Zant," she spoke, breaking the silence that had once filled the air. "I hope I didn't' disturb you in anyway."

"You didn't," Zant answered bluntly, walking no longer. The girl continued to approach until she was standing right in front of him, her eyes fixed upon his.

"I didn't hear about it until my father told me a day later. It was very shocking indeed. I'm so sorry."

Zant said nothing in response, but instead looked over his shoulder at the newly placed grave. After a brief pause, he turned his head back around and returned the girl's gaze. "Thank you. That's very kind."

Before he could say anything else, he felt a wave of surprise enter his body; this girl, whom he had only known through class and only had a negative image of, wrapped her arms around the boy just as Vanadia had. And yet, something about this embrace was different. As the strange girl held him, he felt warm and safe, as if his sorrow and strife had melted away as soon as she laid hands upon him. This euphoria that he now had caused him to react by placing his arms around her waist and his head on her shoulder, and it was then that he knew who she was.

The two had held each other in a similar way when they were imprisoned in a cold and horrible dungeon. She had been chilled to the bone and terrified, and he had embraced her to make her feel warm and safe. And now she was returning the favor in full, and he was extremely thankful.

* * *

Rogen darted down the hall, the cold air slamming against his face as he did so. It was only the second session of the advisory class, and he was already late by at least a good few minutes. As he took a turn down a new hallway, he began to wonder if any of his friends had forgotten that they were supposed to report to the classroom once again.

As soon as he reached the door to the top room of the tower, he opened it with a huge amount of force. This amount was more than what he had assumed; the wooden door slammed open, issuing a crack into the room that echoed several times before fading away. A room full of children, as well as Advisor Ramakl, turned to stare at the boy, who meekly made his way into the room to sit next to Zant, who had a huge smile planted on his face.

Ramakl shook his head and continued on with whatever he was talking about, choosing not to draw any more attention to the boy. Zant jabbed him in the stomach as due punishment instead.

"You could have been a better friend and let me know we were having class today," Rogen said, rubbing his stomach where he had been hit. "You know how I fail to keep up with a schedule."

"That's something that you're going to have to learn to do then, isn't it?" responded Zant, eyes fixed on the front of the room. "You can't expect to have a job like this without-"

"Zant," interrupted Ramakl. "You seem as if you know this rather well. I should hope you do, since you're talking to the young sir next to you instead of focusing on this. Would you mind telling me the name of the advisor who developed the idea of societal segregation?"

"That would have been Advisor Oxogar," responded the boy without hesitation. "He became a part of the guild at the beginning of the year twenty and served for approximately three years before dismissed by King Goldar."

Ramakl said nothing, but once again continued to lecture. He had obviously failed to catch the boy off guard.

"Zant, you are incredible," said Rogen, his eyes now on the front of the room. "How do you manage to do that?"

"He stays dedicated and actually reads our material," came a voice from beyond Zant. "Something that I suggest you do as well."

Rogen leaned back in his seat to see who was sitting next to his friend. To his surprise, it was the girl who had originally beaten him at a game of his own preference. Just what she was doing sitting next to Zant was beyond him, however.

"I do believe that we got off on a bad start," the girl added, now leaning back in her chair as well with a small smirk on her face. Zant scooted his seat forward to give them more viewing room. "My name is Midna. I do believe that you must be Rogen, correct? Zant has already told me so much about you. You seem… interesting, to say the least."

"Charmed," Rogen answered, not impressed in the least. The boy fell back into his chair and faced the front of the room. Midna did this as well, noticing that she must have made little to no new impressions. Zant said nothing.

He observed the room as the teacher began to speak near the front. Everything was in its place; his friends were all there, and although he recently experienced the death of a loved one, he felt nothing but life and joy in his heart. Everything else around him was still going strong. Rogen and Midna, though saying nothing, were both there next to him, in the same room and in the same situation as he was. Vanadia and Nikelo were off at another desk, smirking and giggling to themselves about something or another. Advisor Ramakl continued to talk about the subject at hand, and the other students paid attention, went to sleep, or amused themselves in some way or another. Indeed, life went on.

And it was beautiful.

* * *

A/N: (opens mouth widely, squints eyes and holds up hands) I'M NOT DEAD

That was a Pink reference.

So yeah, it's been like, what, a year since I updated this thing? A whole friggin **YEAR**? Oh well.

To all the loyal fans (all three of you), sorry for keeping you guys waiting. Senior year was a hastle, but now that I've graduated I should be able to update more frequently! Hopefully I will not be distracted with my spending money and Mario Kart goodness.

I plan to update this thing once a week, so make sure you swing by and check for new chapter.

Until then, stay sexy.


	5. Government

Zant stood up from his seat in the sanctuary, eyeing the large stained-glass window before him. Depicted in color were the goddesses of Solism: Melybdona, Argonas, and Hydroga, overlooking the rows of pews and the people that occupied them. They appeared to be mighty and powerful, just as he was described by the priests and priestesses of the religion. Zant knew that if he were to leave the sanctuary at this time, he would be cursed by the goddesses forever and cast into darkness and despair. It was this intimidating promise that kept him from leaving the room, although he secretly wished to do so. There were many other things that he could have been doing at the time.

Filled to the brink of his imagination with thoughts of the powerful dieties, Zant shifted his gaze towards the people kneeling at the altar below the window. They were in the middle of communion, a ceremony necessary to stay in favor with Melybdona, the most powerful and angriest of the three. Zant, for a reason that he didn't know, had a complicated relationship with the goddess. He wasn't against her in any way; he just felt that the sacrament of communion was unnecessary to show loyalty to the gods. Otherwise he was a fine follower of the religion. This is why he was standing; even though he thought that communion was unnecessary, he paid the goddess respect.

While standing tall he watched the people up at the front. He saw his mother, tilting her head back as she drank from the holy grail of Solism. He wondered just what the liquid in the cup was. The high priests of the religion said that the cup was filled with the essence of tears from Argonas, but Zant was certain that it had to have been something else that was merely symbolic. The cup was passed from person to person, each one taking a longer drink from the grail than needed until the priest finally grew impatient and took the cup from them, handing it to the next person that anticipated to taste the liquid.

The cup was finally passed down to Midna, who kneeled at the alter in near-perfect form. Her hands were clasped tightly together and her legs pressed together with no space in-between. Her head was bowed in prayer, her eyes gazing at the floor as she mouthed out the words silently. She noticed the priest's feet in front of her and, looking up, smiled and took the grail for herself. She tilted her head back, her long hair hanging limply behind her, and finished drinking in a much shorter time than the rest of the worshippers. She pressed her lips together and handed the cup back to the priest, who handed it to the person next to her. This happened to be Rogen, who was not at all as graceful as the girl next to him. He quickly took the cup from the priest and drank a mouthful in all haste, as if anxious to get back to his prayer. He shoved the grail into the priest, which undoubtedly startled him, and turned his gaze to Midna, who giggled. The cup was passed to Vanadia, then the Nikelo, then to the person next to him.

When the ceremony was complete, the Twili worshippers stood up and headed back to where they had been sitting. The next slew of worshippers that hadn't had enough room at the alter left their seats and headed towards the front to take their turn. Midna and Rogen sat down side-by-side to Zant's left, while Vanadia and Nikelo took their seats to Zant's right, placing him in the middle.

The service continued to go on, the communion now finished and the worshippers' content. The head priest began to give his sermon, and the audience listened with attentiveness. Zant was quite immersed in the speech, but he became distracted when he felt Vanadia elbow him. Wincing in pain, he turned to look at her.

"Would you look at that?" his friend asked. She had a shocked look on her face, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. Zant turned to his left to see what she was looking at. At first he saw nothing, but then began to smirk when he saw Rogen and Midna holding hands beside him. He turned to look at Vanadia again, who was still distracted. She obviously did not approve.

Rolling his eyes, Zant returned his gaze to the priest. He honestly didn't care enough.

* * *

Lithia entered the kitchen the following morning, still partially asleep. It had been exactly two weeks since her husband had died without notice, and although she was relatively over the shock of the death and the sadness that came from it, she still felt horribly alone. Although she had Zant with her, she couldn't help but realize how empty the apartment felt without Beryll in there with her. He had been with her for well over 30 years, and now that he had gone so suddenly, she felt insecure.

As she did every morning, she went to the cupboard and took out a slice of bread and a jar of Zant's favorite jelly. It was his favorite breakfast, not only because it tasted fine, he told her, but because it was quick and easy to eat. Smiling to herself, she tried to imagine how many times she had done this in the morning; far too many to count!

And now, it might as well have been the very last time she had set out his breakfast for him before leaving to perform her duties. If she remembered right, and she was certain that she did, today was Zant's final day of lessons. Later that evening would be a test that Zant and the rest of his class would have to take, and those that passed the test would be able to become official advisors to the royal family. Zant would then live not in the apartment that he grew up in, but in a separate part of the palace reserved for official members of the Twili government.

A frown appearing on her face, Lithia looked at what would probably be the last piece of bread and jelly that she would set out for the boy, then grabbed her maid's uniform and left the apartment. There was work that needed to be done.

As she walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, where she was first required to do her services, she noticed two other Twili walking in front of her. One of them was short and round, the other tall and broom-like. She knew exactly who they were and rolled her eyes, disappointed that she would probably have to converse with them on the way to work. Sure enough, the two in front of her turned around once they heard someone else approaching, looked at each other when they saw who it was, and grinned.

"Would you look who it is?" asked Malina, returning her gaze to Lithia and sending her a large, toothy grin. "I do believe it's Lithia, going to work I'm sure."

"Join us, Dear," said Rona as she turned around to continue walking towards the kitchen. "We don't bite. We were just having a nice little talk about what's going on in the palace."

"Isn't that what you do best, Rona?" asked Lithia as she caught up to the two. There were few Twili that Lithia truly disliked, and she was sad to say that Malina and Rona were among those that she had no interest in. Still, she knew that it would be polite to join them on the way to work, and she was capable of swallowing her pride to do just that.

"Oh, this isn't our usual gossip," said Malina hastily, facing Lithia once again. However, her grin was replaced with a look of all seriousness; something that Lithia had never seen on Malina's face. "This is cold hard fact. There's a revolution brewing amongst the Twili, Dear!"

"A what?"

"It's true." Rona nodded her head. She, too, had a look of seriousness. "I overheard it yesterday. My husband, Copperi, and a group of other men that I had never seen before decided to come into the apartment last night. I thought nothing of it; Copperi usually invites several other boys into the apartment to drink and gamble, and I figured that these must have been some new friends that he had found. As I was in the kitchen, doing a favor for him and getting some drinks, I overheard one of the men shouting. Well, actually, 'overheard' is sort of an understatement, because I heard him loud and clear; he was shouting at the top of his lungs. I wasn't able to catch what he said in its entirety, but he was saying something about the king and queen and the lousy government that we live under."

Rona paused for a brief moment, leaving Lithia in suspense to hear the rest of the story. When Rona saw the look of curiosity on the maid's face, she decided to continue.

"I decided that I would listen in a little closer. Government and politics isn't exactly something that I get into, but as you know I try my hardest to understand things once I pick them up when I'm not supposed to. The man that had been shouting was pouring in sweat once I looked into the room, and several of his veins were bulging in his forehead. He continued to shout as I looked on.

"'The king and queen don't know what's best for us,' he screamed. 'If we're going to get rid of them then overthrowing the crown is the only way to do so!'

"'I can't agree with you on that," said another man. 'There are better ways to change policy. The king and queen before have said whole-heartedly that they want to represent us; this is why they desegregated our society. If we simply _talk_ to them and voice our concerns, then there would be less of a need to do something foolish like overthrow the crown.'

"'How can you say that the crown wants to represent us?' The angry man looked as if he were about to explode. 'The only reason why they changed that damnable law is because of those kids that had managed to get themselves stuck in the dungeons! They're more concerned about the well-being of the kids than of the people! They could care less about the rest of society unless in some way we managed to tug at their heartstrings, and that's not going to happen!'

"At this point I became rather confused. Apparently a group of citizens was angry that the king and queen weren't representing their interests and instead were ruling on their own emotions and ideas. The argument went on for quite some time, the angry men threatening to violently overthrow the crown and the calmer men wanting to find some kind of negotiation."

"So you believe that a group of people will assassinate the king and queen?" asked Lithia, not sure what to believe. She generally had no problem with the royal family's policy; perhaps this was a side-effect of her husband being an advisor and highly favored.

Rona nodded. "I supposed all we could really do is wait and see what happens."

* * *

That afternoon, Zant walked into the classroom at the top of the northern tower for the last time. Today was his final day of lessons, and that evening he would be taking the test to see if he was well-qualified for the position of advisor. Although it seemed like the ideal place, the test was not to be taken in the classroom but instead in the main hall, where the students would have more room and be less distracted. For this reason Zant savored the feeling of the chilly air as he walked in, knowing that it would probably be a while before he walked into the room again.

Midna and Rogen were already there, an empty chair next to Midna for Zant. Nikelo was there as well, trying to talk to Rogen but having no luck. Vanadia was nowhere to be seen. Thinking nothing of it, Zant sat in the chair Midna had so graciously saved for him and faced the front of the room.

Advisor Ramakl was standing up against the wall, a slight look of sadness upon his face. This would be the last time that he had a lesson with the children, but he hoped in his heart that most of them would soon be joining him in his profession. Clearing his throat, he smiled as the room was silenced and began to speak shortly after.

"I am sad to say that this is the last lesson that we shall have together. As such, I have prepared a special lecture for all of you, one that should interest most of you a great deal. Although the topic of today's discussion has little to do with government policy and the advisor position, it may become very important to know about this in the near future. Today we shall be talking about the Hylians."

Ramakl turned around and waved his hand. Red sparks formed against the wall and spelled out the word 'Hylians' like chalk on a blackboard. Although startled the first time he did this, the students had now come to know this manner of enchantment and merely watched.

"I shall ask upfront. How many of you know that there is more than the one realm that we live in?"

Nobody raised their hands. Zant secretly wished that he had done so, even though he had no idea what a Hylian was. Eager to learn, he paid attention.

"In that case, there is a lot to talk about. There is another dimension that exists, parallel to what we know as the Twilight Realm. It is called Hyrule, and it is far different from ours. It is filled with light. A sun travels the land in approximately twelve hours and then rests another twelve hours. Naturally, this is quite different from the perpetual dusk that we always experience."

The entire room was paying close attention. Those that usually fell asleep or did other things were now listening with the attentiveness of Zant and Midna. Even Rogen was sitting up straight and focusing on the teacher.

"The land is also filled with a people that are far different than the Twili. These are the Hylians that I mentioned earlier. They are light-dwellers, and bask in the warmth of the light that the sun provides them. They are generally carefree and spontaneous in their emotions and actions, which probably results from the ever-changing atmosphere that they live in.

"There is something that you all need to know about the Hylians: they can not exist in the Twilight Realm. They become nothing but spirits, unseen by the eye and untouchable by hands. Likewise, we Twili can not exist in their world of light, but we have a much different reaction. We do not turn into spirits, but we are severely wounded beyond belief, perhaps fatally. The only way to manage surviving in the world of light is to turn into the shadow of one of the Hylians, moving with him and having no life other than his, lest you want to startle him and appear from underneath his feet."

Zant was amazed beyond belief. It was one thing to know that there was another world out there, but another _race_? And they were all so different than the Twili that he all knew! How amazing the goddesses were when they created existence. He had to know more.

Naturally, Midna raised her hand before his. "How do we connect to Hyrule?"

"There is a portal that can be opened from Hyrule and from Hyrule only." At this, many of the students groaned, yearning for exploration. "However, once one of the Hylians opens the portal, then the Twili can freely leave the Twilight Realm as they wish. They cease to do so when someone closes the portal from Hyrule. Sadly, it is safe to assume that many Hylians have forgotten about the portal, as records indicate that it hasn't been opened in over three centuries.

"I am sure that many of you are wondering what this has to do with advising the royal family. It has much to do with the said topic. Should another Hylian discover and open the portal, an entirely new realm of policy opens. Should we isolate ourselves, having little to do with the other world, or encourage trade and interaction amongst the other race? This all rests upon the king and queen's shoulders, who look to advisors for suggestions. Although the chances of opening the portal are highly slim, it is important to shape your views on the matter should the day come. Who knows? The portal could open tomorrow, or even today."

With this closing note, a long, awkward silence filled the room. All students were wondering just what would be best for the Twilight Realm should the portal be opened once again. Should they interact with the Hylians or discourage association?

Ramakl broke the silence as he usually did. "Sadly, there is nothing else left for me to teach you. You are all free to go. The test will be taken this evening in the main hall of the palace. Study until then, and may the goddesses give you all knowledge you need."

* * *

The second floor of the palace was truly unique to the rest of the building. While every other floor had at least five or even ten rooms, the second only had one. The rest of the floor consisted of winding staircases that went in nearly every direction possible, leading a person up in a direction that he desired to go. From the first floor was a single staircase, which went south to north and onto the landing of the second floor. From here a person could either turn around and heads southwards, continue going straight and northwards, or turn to the left or right and go west or east. On the landing was the sole door to the sole room that was mentioned earlier; this was the door to the library.

Many of the Twili didn't care too much for books. There was far too much work to be done and hardly any time for pleasure reading. And yet, the last king and queen thought it necessary to have one, should the need to research come up. Right now the room was completely empty, save five or so children that were sitting at the tables and peering into large books about the advisory position. Three of these children were Zant, Midna, and Rogen, all three looking at books and studying for the exam that would take place later that evening.

Every minute or so, one of the three would ask the other a question, which would be answered by one of the other two. A discussion would usually come about, whether or not it was about the topic at hand was to be decided when the conversation went underway. After about seven minutes of conversing, the three would become silent once again, only to start talking once someone else asked a question.

Every now and then, Zant would look around the room to get a change of scenery from the dull words on the pages. The windows were slightly fogged in a desperate need of cleaning. Several of the books looked as if they were too old to be used anymore, torn and frayed at the edges. Several of the other kids that were in the room weren't even studying, but talking loudly amongst themselves and conversing about silly gossip. He managed to catch a glimpse of Vanadia, sitting at the table next to him and staring at something. He turned to see where her eyes were fixed and noticed that she was glaring down Midna and Rogen, the former helping the latter answer a question on economic policy. He looked back to see nothing but jealousy. It was everywhere; in her eyes, in her grimace, in her entire face. She didn't even notice him looking at her so inquisitively.

He was brought back to reality when Midna asked him a question to make sure that what she had told Rogen was correct.

"So?" she asked, her voice having a tint of self-doubt. "Is that right?"

"Sorry, what?" Zant hadn't heard a word she had said to him.

"Are you even with us?" asked Rogen, noticed Zant's slightly distracted look. "You usually don't pass up a question like that."

Midna frowned and looked at Zant's book. Out of nowhere, she yanked it out of his hands and observed the pages herself. "You're not even studying for the test! What is this?"

"It's a book that I found when I got out of class today. It involves the early Twili interactions with the Hylians that we learned about today."

"Oh please." Rogen rolled his eyes. "How can you even be sure that what's in there is correct, then? Didn't Ramakl say that the portal hadn't been upon in, like, fifty centuries?"

"It was more like three." Midna shot a glance at Rogen and frowned. She then smirked as she went on. "Still, that's a long time. You have to even wonder if there even really was a portal or if it was just legend."

"What would be the problem of believing that it exists?" asked Zant as he took the book from Midna. "I wouldn't be hurting anything. Besides, I think it's great to think that there are other people and races other than the Twili. Imagine the possibilities that we could bring to the Twilight Realm if we could connect to Hyrule and establish some sort of order that would bring the two worlds together?"

"And how would you go about doing that?" asked Midna, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "You heard what Ramakl said. The Twili can't exist in the light world, and the Hylians can't exist in ours."

"Without the aid of something else, they might not be able to," added Zant. "The Advisor never said anything about there being exceptions. There might be a way for the Hylians to remain in their natural way in the Twilight Realm, and vice versa. Who knows? Maybe there isn't even a change if they enter through the portal from one world to the next. Maybe it only happens if the person enters the other realm in some other way. The possibilities are endless."

Midna and Rogen both sat in silence for a minute or two, reflecting on what their friend had said. Rogen broke the silence by scoffing, but saying nothing afterwards.

Zant stood up and grabbed his book. "I will see you two at the examination." With a feeling of disappointment, he left the library.

* * *

As soon as a person opened the huge wooden doors to the Palace of Twilight, they were able to see the entirety of the Great Hall, otherwise known as the main hall of the palace. It was an extremely large room; the largest in the whole palace, it was approximately 200 yards in length and 100 yards in width, with a ceiling towering even further above the floor. A horribly large chandelier hung from tiny chords above the center of the hall, dangling precariously but shining strongly. When one walked in to the room they immediately felt useless and tiny; such was the grandeur of the main hall.

Normally the room was relatively empty, sans a few pieces of furniture that were on display every day of the year. This evening, the room was filled with a small number of desks, each one quite a distance away from the other. A student sat at each desk, all of them holding a pen and writing feverishly. Pens clicked on the pieces of paper before them, filling the air with a _clink clink clink _sound. Several of them were writing casually, taking their time and ensuring their success. Most the students, however, were writing frantically, either trying to finish what they were doing as quickly as possible or being far too nervous to focus properly.

Zant was among the few that were writing calmly. He had the upper-hand of taking this test; his deceased father had been an advisor. Each new question that he came to was even easier than the last. Smirking to himself, he finished the 25th short answer question and headed on to the next, only having 14 more to go.

_Explain why it is important for an advisor to know about the realm of Hyrule. _

Zant grinned widely. This was his favorite topic! Remembering what Ramakl had said, he wrote his answer.

_It is important to know about the land of Hyrule should the portal between the Twilight Realm and Hyrule be opened once again. If this happens, the advisors will need to assist the crown in determining what the policy should be between the two realms._

Zant began to think about his discussion with Midna and Rogen in the library. How foolish it was of them to be so ignorant about the possibilities! There were so many things to think about. How would the economy be different? Would there be peace of conflict between the two worlds? What did they even look like?

Zant took what Ramakl had said and built an image of what a typical Hylian male would look like. He was fair-skinned and white… no, tanned, due to the ever-rotating sun and light that shined on the land. He had free-flowing hair and bright eyes, filled with happiness and energy, knowing that he could move about and enjoy the change of atmosphere when the day turned to night and the night back into day.

One of the students that had been sitting next to him, writing frantically like the majority of them, dropped his pen on to the floor as the result of a slippage of the fingers. The clink that it made from contact with the hard floor brought Zant back into reality. He looked around, unsure of where he was, and realized that he was in the middle of taking what was probably the most important test of his life.

Beginning to sweat nervously, Zant searched for the next question that he would have to answer.

_What is the economic principle that describes the crown or any other system of government owning the land of a kingdom?_

Zant quickly wrote down the word "socialism", writing just as frantically as most of the other kids in the room. He wondered how Midna and Rogen were doing; they probably weren't being distracted by the thoughts of Hylians like he was.

What would their economic system be like? Was it like the Twilight Realm's, where the people lived in a commune headed by a king and queen and shared everything amongst them? Or was it like capitalism, where the people were able to own their own land and be able to trade amongst themselves as they saw fit? Zant had always thought of this being the better system. People could be so unreliable if you had to depend on them for certain goods and services. At least this way a person knew that they could get something done themselves if they just dedicated themselves to it. Perhaps when he was an advisor he would partition a bill that would help the king and queen to realize the mistakes of communism and make the switch to free market society?

"Time is up. You may put your pens down and fold up your tests. I will be coming by to collect them."

Zant entered an immediate state of shock. He looked at his test; only 27 of the 40 questions had been answered. He dropped the pen that he gripped in his hand on the floor, unaware that he had just done so. He had most likely failed the most important test of his life, and he would probably be unable to become an advisor like both he and his father had wanted.

He was a failure.

Without folding his test like he was instructed or even thinking, Zant stood up from his desk and left the hall. Midna noticed him leave and stared at the door he exited through, wondering what had happened. She glanced over to Rogen to see that he, too, had seen his friend get up and leave so suddenly. He caught her gaze, shrugged, and turned back to see whether or not the administrator had collected his test. Midna frowned and did the same.

* * *

Two weeks had passed since the students had taken their advisory exams. Many of them were beginning to wonder when their results would be coming back to them, if they would be coming back at all. Several began to ask around, hoping to find out if they were supposed to go and see someone about their results or if they would be coming to them some other way. Originally, Midna was the only one of the three friends who cared to know her score, but as the days passed, she too became disinterested like Zant and Rogen.

As of now, the three were all sitting in Zant's bedroom, thinking of ways to entertain themselves in the upcoming days now that they were done with lessons. All three of them had different ideas as to how to spend their newly given free time. Rogen wanted to goof off and live a life of leisure, something that he was not going to be able to have when he was expected to have a job in the palace. There was a huge park outside and to the west, where a lake and forest had the perfect hang-out spots and were just secluded enough to relax.

Zant suggested that they spend the time preparing for a job so that they would be well enough experienced when the time came to get one. The job that they chose would be a job that they would have for life; it was highly important that they were prepared for it when the time came to be enlisted. Should a situation come up, it was important to know what actions were to be taken so that everyone rode through the problem without any major difficulties. This was his main argument, but it fell on deaf ears. Rogen refused to listen to such advice, not wanting to spend his free time working. Midna, on the other hand, was still rather disappointed in Zant's short attention span that had caused him to answer only a little more than half of the exam. He had told her about it shortly after the test was finished, and she was absolutely furious.

Midna suggested taking time to expand the mind and become well-enlisted in the arts. There were plenty of things to do, she told them, such as reading the Twili classics, dabbling in poetry and prose, and sketching and painting. She argued that it was important to become well-cultured, especially in a position such as advisory. Zant and Rogen, however, would take no part of it.

She was in the middle of explaining the value of artwork when Lithia opened the door to the room, causing all three of them to turn their heads in her direction. She was holding three envelopes and had a look of anticipation on her face.

"They're here!" she exclaimed, handing out the envelopes, one to each of the youths. "These are the results of your tests! I passed Advisor Ramakl on the way home from the ballroom, and he asked me to give these to each of you. He had a smile on his face when he mentioned you all!"

Midna tore open her letter right away, her anxiousness to see how she did suddenly coming back to her. The two boys took more time in opening their envelopes, Zant reading the front and Rogen looking as if he didn't know what to do with it.

"I've been accepted!" she shouted, throwing both her arms and the letter in the air. "The ceremony is two days from now! I'm going to be knighted by the king and queen of the Twilight Realm!"

Rogen, Zant, and Lithia all gave her warm congratulations. She shrugged it off, pretending to be modest, though it was clear that she was proud. "Hurry and open yours, you two," she said, waiting for the next person to see their results.

Zant fumbled with his envelope. He had planned on telling Lithia that he probably wouldn't be accepted, but he just didn't have the heart to do so. She would probably be extremely depressed, and he hoped to have a few more days to think of what to say to her. Now that his results were here, though, it was now or never.

"I didn't make it," said Rogen, matter-of-factly. He threw the letter aside. "It's not a big deal. I was losing interest in the position anyway. Besides, once I looked over all the stuff for the exam, I pretty much realized that it just probably wasn't my calling to be an advisor."

"I'm sorry, Dearest," Lithia answered. "But I'm sure you're right. There are bound to be other positions that you will be absolutely great in."

Midna smiled at him, partly agreeing and partly happy that she passed. "Go on, Zant," she said, looking towards her friend. "Go ahead and open your letter."

Zant began to feel nervous as the other two turned to look at him. He glanced down at the envelope once again, where his name was written in thick, black ink. Knowing that he would have had to get it over with sooner or later, he tore open the top of the envelope and removed the letter from inside. He unfolded it slowly, wondering what his mother's reaction would be. Once he unfolded it completely, he read the letter to himself.

_Dearest Zant,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted by the king and queen of the Twilight Realm to be an advisor to the family. A ceremony will be held on the thirtieth of the month in the throne room, where you will be knighted by the two and formally be placed in the chapter. Congratulations!_

_Sincerely, _

_The Advisory Department_

* * *

A large amount of the Twili citizens had packed themselves in the throne room, where they were held back from the back of the room by a barricade of both rope and palace guards. So many of them had come for two reasons; one being that the advisors were defined as those who stayed in touch with the citizens in order to voice their opinions to the king and queen, the other because this was the only event where everyone was allowed to enter the throne room.

The proud parents of the future advisors were given front-row privileges for logical reasons. To their astonishment, there were only eleven, Lithia being the reason for the odd number. To Advisor Ramakl, however, this was no surprise, as he had known not many of the students who entered the class would be worthy of such a position. Lithia knew, however, that there were actually twelve parents awaiting the ceremony; Beryll was watching with her, most likely the proudest he had ever been.

Now the ceremony was over, all six of the new advisors having been knighted and joining the ranks of their seniors. As each junior had been called and knighted by the king and queen, the crowd cheered as a welcome while their parents wept. Lithia, on the other hand, did not shed a tear. This was a joyous occasion, not a solemn one, and for this reason she cheered loudest out of the crowd with the largest smile ever to come across her face. Beryll would have done the same.

Zant and Midna were the last kids to be knighted, Midna being the very last of the six. Both of them looked greater than they ever had before, wearing the robes that set them apart from the rest of society as official advisors to the Twili government. They had been in the throne room once before, and the king and queen remembered who they were. They were secretly proudest of them.

When Midna was knighted and she joined the rest of her order, the king and queen proudly introduced them as the Advisors of the Twilight Realm, and the audience burst into cheers once again. Zant and Midna smiled, both of them the happiest they had ever been before.

It was a glorious moment indeed.

* * *

The reception was to be held in the ballroom of the palace, due to its much larger size than the throne room and the fact that the king and queen both wanted everyone out. The majority of the people had moved into the dance hall, eager to continue having an excuse to celebrate, even if they had never known any of the new advisors when they were still merely kids.

Zant and Midna met up with Rogen, who embraced both of them. The three began to converse immediately, and were inseparable for most of the party.

"Did I tell either one of you?" he asked them anxiously. "I have decided what I'm going to do for my occupation!"

"That's great!" exclaimed Midna, truly happy for him. "What did you decide? Are you going to be a chef like your father?"

"Goodness no. It's much better than that."

"Well, go on. Don't leave me waiting!"

"I have joined the service!"

Zant chuckled aloud and gave Rogen a pat on the back. Midna's smile turned into a look of seriousness.

"The service?" she asked. "As in, the military?"

"Yes! In times of peace I work as a guard for the family, and in times of crisis I make sure that I keep order or from riots from breaking out. It sounds exciting, doesn't it? I figured it would be the perfect job for me, so I signed up. They're going to examine me to make sure that I'm good enough, and I'm bound to pass_ this _exam. If I do I start next month."

"That's great, Rogen." Zant smiled. "Really. It's good to see you wanting to put some effort towards something."

"Well I disapprove." Midna looked sickened. "I think it's great that you're wanting to do something as well, Rogen, but the military? An armed servant of the government? Who knows what could happen to you! What if there was some kind of insurrection and you were hurt, or killed? I won't allow it!"

As Rogen began to respond, Zant knew that he probably shouldn't be around. Leaving the couple to their privacy, he took off to an unknown destination, knowing very well that there was a time and a place for everything. He began to look around the room for other people to talk to, but could find no one. Someone, however, found him.

"Zant!"

He turned in the direction the voice was coming from and saw Advisor Ramakl, mingling with someone else. He said a word to his friend, who nodded and walked off, leaving Ramakl free to head in Zant's direction. The new advisor smiled, wanting to speak with the senior in the first place.

"There you are. I wanted to come by and congratulate you personally! So… here I am. Are you anxious to start showing up to work as an advisor?"

"I suppose so." Zant grinned. "There was something that I wanted to ask you about, though. I don't understand how I was accepted when I did so poorly on-"

"Your test?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Zant, there is something that I'm not supposed to tell you, but now that you're one of us, I don't see a point in not saying. The test isn't something that we advisors look at to make sure someone has the qualifications of becoming a Twili. In fact, we pretty much ignore it."

"I don't understand."

"Let me put it to you this way. Your friend, Rogen, answered 35 of the 40 questions on the test correctly. But you didn't see him with you and Midna when you were being knighted, did you? That's because I studied his behavior carefully. When we look to enroll new people, we don't look at their intelligence or their backgrounds. What we look at is merely dedication and interest. I knew right from the start that you and Midna would be joining the ranks when you two competed against each other so intensely to answer the questions I asked you on that first day of class. I thought to myself, 'Here's a good young couple that is willing to serve the family and the people.' Rogen, on the other hand, and a good deal of the other students, were there mainly to have something to do. They didn't care too much for becoming an advisor, even if they studied frantically the moments before the test. You two, on the other hand, were both the best students that I have ever taught. Now, tell me, did Rogen not seem to care when he got his results today? I would like to know."

Zant nearly bust out laughing. "No, he didn't! You are too amazing, Advisor. I have to know, though… how many questions did Midna miss?"

Advisor Ramakl had already begun to leave when the boy asked his question. Turning to look at Zant, he smiled smugly. "Zero." He walked off.

Zant rolled his eyes. "It figures," he thought, and he took off towards another unknown destination. He was interrupted mid-journey, however, when he noticed that the king and queen had stood up on a platform in the back of the room, calling for everyone's attention. The room fell into silence as everyone turned to face the monarchs. A speech was about to begin.

"Would all of the old, and new, advisors please come to the front of the room?"

Some hushed chatter started up as the entire advisory cabinet headed towards the king and queen. Zant weaved in and out of the crowd, hoping that he wouldn't be the last one to reach the back. He soon joined his friends and took his place next to Midna, who smiled at him.

The king cleared his throat. The crowd once again silenced itself. "You see before you the entire cabinet of the advisors. As you all know, these people are here to-"

The king was cut off by a deafening explosion. The air in the room become sweltering as fire broke out in every direction, consuming anything that it could reach. The people screamed, a few of them having been unfortunate enough to be caught in the middle of the explosion. It could be assumed that they were all either severely injured or dead.

Zant was confused beyond belief. What had just happened? Were there protestors in the room as well? He looked around, frozen in the same spot, his head being filled with amazing images. He heard the king scream something to his wife, but he was cut off once again. He turned to see what might have happened and was shocked to see a giant arrow lodged into the king's back. He stood there for a while, seeming to endure the pain, but fell onto the floor when a second arrow came and pierced his shoulder. The queen screamed as her husband lay before her, lifeless. It wasn't too long until she had experienced the same fate.

And in the meantime, the boy was still frozen in place. His jaw dropped in disbelief. Had this really just happened?

His thoughts were broken when he felt someone grab his arm. He turned and saw Advisor Ramakl, an urgent look on his face. "We have to get out of here!" shouted the senior, motioning towards the rest of the advisors, all of whom had taken flight. "It's a coup! An overthrow of the government! They'll be coming after all of us!"

The advisor began running, still clinging on to Zant's arm. Zant was pulled along with him, his feet running as well to an uncertain place. He assumed that the advisor was going to lead him to safety, but the possibilities of what would happen were still endless.

After a few more steps Ramakl let go of Zant's arm, leaving him responsible for keeping up with the rest. Zant could see Midna ahead of him, her long, dress-like robe flowing behind her. He wondered how long it would take for her to trip on the fabric, but to his amazement, she was able to keep running without doing so.

The whole pack of advisors, a group that numbered to 21, continued to run down different hallways, looking for the farthest place from the ballroom that would double as a great hiding spot. Zant began to wonder if maybe they should split up and go separate ways, but he never voiced his thoughts. He just kept running, afraid of what would happen to him and what would happen to his friends and fellow advisors. He then began to wonder if Lithia had managed to escape. Was she one of the ones that had been unfortunate enough to be in the center of the room? He shook these thoughts out of his head as he turned a corner.

He realized shortly afterwards that whoever was leading the group was taking them to the dungeons. It was probably there, in the dark and damp, where they would hide. No one would ever want to look there.

They eventually reached the door that opened to the steep stairwell leading into the depths of the cells. They slowed their sprinting to a jog, all of them being careful not to misstep and go tumbling down the stairs and into the abyss. It took them nearly a minute for all of them to reach the bottom, where they resumed sprinting towards the back of the dungeon.

Zant took in the scenery as he went. The dungeons were much lighter than when he and Midna had been there last, and instead of the lower-class citizens occupying the room, there were prison cells containing criminals. These heathens watched the advisors run by with scathing eyes, most likely jealous of their freedom and position. Little did they know the reason as to why they were being chased, and had they known, it is likely that they wouldn't have been as jealous.

The group came to a halt, having reached the end of the dungeon. They looked about, uncertain of where they should go next. All of them were silent with fear. Ramakl broke the silence when he leaned against the back wall and sat on the floor.

"I do believe that we have no other way to go," he said, panting from exhaustion. "We could probably stay here and be safe; nobody ever wants to go into the dungeon."

"But the question is, how willing are they to look for us?" asked a woman that Zant had never met. "We don't know their motivations. They could be searching the entire palace for us as we speak."

Her suspicions were confirmed. As soon as her sentence was finished, a candle lit up the room, exposing them all to the eyes of the revolutionaries, who must have numbered at least 30. An old man, who was the leader of the opposing pack, chuckled loudly to himself. "You should have known, all of you," he said, grinning. "We had our eye on you the whole time. While half the group caused the explosion and assassinated the monarchs… no, _dictators_… the other half watched the advisors and gave chase to them the whole way. You were all foolish to say the least."

Zant couldn't believe what he was hearing. They had been followed the whole way! And now he and Midna were cornered like stupid animals, awaiting their deaths from the hunter's bow.

"Explain your demands," stated Ramakl without the slightest hint of fear in his voice. "The government does not surrender unless we either know of the demands or all forces have been drained."

"I do believe you're making a mistake," answered the revolutionary. "I'll have you know that the majority of the people have made the request to change the government through whatever means necessary. You don't want to upset the people, do you? Keep in mind that our supporters far outnumber your militia…"

Ramakl remained silent, completely oblivious as to knowing the answer of the question. Instead, the revolutionary answered for him by motioning for the rest of the pack to go forward and swarm the advisors.

Zant watched in disgust as the remainder of the pack obeyed their leader, grabbing the advisors by the arms and tying their hands together with bits of rope. How was it that these people were so unwilling to obey the "oppressive" government, but were willing to obey someone who merely had the same political interests as they did? They were swine because of this, too stupid to know the irony of the whole thing.

A brutish looking revolutionary had taken hold of Midna. The fire of her personality coming forth, she struggled against him, proving that she wasn't going to give up without a fight. The man was too strong for her, though; he easily grabbed hold of both arms and secured them together. For good measure, he back-handed her across the face, causing her to bite down on her bottom lip. The anger inside of Zant began boil, heightened by the site of the blood that her lip was leaking.

He made an effort to run at the man and tackle him from behind, but he was held back by a revolutionary that had just now gotten to him. He struggled against the grip of his captor, but to no avail. His hands were tied just like the rest, and he was kicked in the gut for trying to attack the noble man that was doing the people a favor.

The leader of the revolutionaries grinned as all the advisors were tied up. His smile then turned into a look of all seriousness, his lips forming a frown and his eyes squinting. "Very good," he said. "Now then, you know what to do with them. Take them outside and line them against the palace wall. Enjoy yourselves afterwards."

The pack began to lead the advisors out of the dungeon, but the leader addressed them once again. "Wait… Where are the six that were inducted as of this afternoon?"

No one actually did anything to respond.

"Let them all go. They were only inducted today; they were not responsible for the oppression that we had to suffer. Why should they have to die?" He grinned once again as the six were pushed to the front in full view of the leader. "However, I think I have an idea. I'll explain it to them all as you go outside and kill the others. Go on now!"

The pack of revolutionaries left with all speed, anxious for the bloodshed to begin. Midna looked back and saw Advisor Ramakl wave goodbye to her for the last time. She turned to face the leader before she began to tear up.

"Do you have any idea what my new plan is?" asked the leader, eyeing the six newest advisors before him. "It's simple, really. I suppose you are aware of the Constitution of the Twilight Realm? Sure you do. You would have to if you were going to be advisors. However, such a document is absolutely unnecessary as of now. After all, we just now overthrew the government that it had created so long ago! This is where you come in

"We are not anarchists. We _want_ a form of government. But we want one where the people will be truly represented; a democracy! No! A _democratic republic_! We desire representation and a say on whether or not we agree with government policies in order to influence the head in striking them down! I have spared you all because I want you six to become the drafters of the new constitution. Keep my demands in mind."

And with that simple set of instructions, he left. The advisors remained where they were, unsure of where they should go and what they should do next.

Midna had already decided. She collapsed onto the floor at the thought of the senior advisors being executed and wept aloud.


End file.
